


Everything's fine

by Shama_Nina



Category: One Piece
Genre: ASL Brothers, Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Blood and Violence, Child Neglect, Coercion, Depression, Dogs, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Family, Friendship, Hurt Roronoa Zoro, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Child Abuse, Protectiveness, Roronoa Zoro-centric, Starvation, Suicide, Swearing, Swordfighting, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Worry, as a sport, as cute kids, dad Mihawk, of a minor character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shama_Nina/pseuds/Shama_Nina
Summary: In a modern setting Zoro is the current champion when it comes to sword fighting, the adoptive son of the last great champion Mihawk, but his best friend Nami, her roommate Usopp and the Dracule's neighbor Sanji are worried about him. After two serious injuries and the suicide of his blood father Koshiro he is forced to retire from sport.He takes over his father's old Dojo, teaching children like the brothers Ace, Luffy and Sabo and lives with his new boyfriend Daz Bones, and Ex Box Champion. Everything should be well, but something is just not right with their green haired friend. How can they help if he keeps insisting that everything's fine?
Relationships: Mr 1 | Daz Bones/Roronoa Zoro, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 65
Kudos: 145





	1. You don't forget a boy with green hair

If I knew anything at all about Roronoa Zoro, then it was the fact that he did not have an easy start in life. I met the green haired boy when we were both eleven years old in an awful state orphanage, but it took time for us to really get to know each other, as we both liked to keep to ourselves mostly. Well, I had at least one friend, Nojiko was two years older than me and she cared for me when others tried to pick on me for my weird hair, Zoro was always alone.

At the beginning I was sure the boy was mute until he started screaming and cursing at others. Mostly the workers, but sometimes other kids as well, most were scared of him, the more heavy-handed staff often hitting the small child, or at least trying to. He was amazingly good at dodging and blocking punches from much larger men and I instinctively wondered if he was the same as me, taken away from home because of all the slaps and bruises.

When I was younger, I lived with Arlong, a horrible man. He was not my father, I was sure of that, his large nose and the thick black hair opposites to my features, but he was probably the boyfriend of my mother before she left me with him. He hit me a lot, getting drunk and sending me to steal for him. It wasn’t the bruises that got me away from him in the end, but the theft, the police interfering and putting me here.

Sometimes I still got hit, but I didn’t need to steal, there was always enough food, even the shitty orphanage was better than Arlong’s place.

So I got curious about the boy, he seemed familiar with hurt, never crying, only shouting when people were mean, trying to take things like the precious food away from him. And what do they say? Curiosity kills the cat.

On a sunny afternoon I climbed the tree Zoro liked to hide away in and unsurprisingly found the boy, perched on one of the thick branches, his hair blending in with the green foliage around us for once.

He merely grunted instead of a real greeting, but I was happy enough with not being cussed out, so I sat down next to him, bringing my knees up to my torso and mustering him curiously until he finally said something.

“What do you want?!” The other child sounded annoyed, like the grown-ups did and I giggled a little. Then my face got sombre and I watched the ground far beneath us instead. I understood why he liked this place, nobody was looking here, nobody would hear what was being said. In a crowded place like an orphanage a moment of peace and seclusion was seldom found.

“I was just wondering if we are the same.” I said and Zoro looked at me uncomprehending what I meant. “You’re really good at not getting hit even though they try to all the time. I got hit in my old home a lot too, here they don’t like slapping girls as much. I’m glad about it, but it’s also really mean.” I elaborated without looking in his direction.

The boy hummed as an answer, falling silent otherwise for a while. “No, father didn’t hit me.” He said after minutes of nothing and patted my arm in what I guessed was trying to be a comforting gesture, as if saying that he was sorry for me.  
It was awkward, but also kind of cute coming from the boy who barely even talked in civil tones.

“He has a Dojo, we trained together, it’s why I’m good at dodging. Then my older sister died and Koshiro got really sad. He didn’t leave the house anymore, he didn’t do the shopping and didn’t pay the bills. He was sick and I was hungry when they took me away. It’s not fair, I need to be there for him, but I’m here instead, this place fucking sucks!”

Zoro ranted, sounding angrier with every syllable spoken, in the end nearly screaming in desperation. I felt torn by the information the green haired boy had given away. On one side I understood why he wanted to go home, after all I would probably want to go home as well if I had a loving parent waiting for me, on the other hand… A father was supposed to take care of his son, not the other way around, right?

Was Koshiro really a good parent if he let his son starve after the death of his daughter?  
Now that I really looked, I could still see the aftereffects of long-time starvation on the boy. His bronze skin was dry, the hair although vibrant in colour looked brittle, his face had no baby fat even though he clearly hadn’t hit puberty yet with how small he was and all.

I wasn’t sure what to say without getting yelled at. I didn’t really understand his situation after all, but I still felt more connected now. I didn’t want to insult his father even though I had a bad feeling if the grown-ups had thought Zoro’s situation was bad enough to take him here.

I was Zoro’s first friend at the orphanage. I still stuck to Nojiko’s side most of the time, but soon after the green haired boy made new friends as well. Two rambunctious boys named Jonny and Yosaku, now glued to the side of their stoic leader.

Not long after Nojiko and I got adopted by a lovely police woman named Bellemere. The blue haired girl had already been a sister to me, but now it was official, we were a real family and could leave that place behind. Sadly, I had to leave Zoro behind as well, with no means of contact we lost sight of each other.

When I was sixteen, I went back to the orphanage and asked about the green haired boy, but other that he was adopted some years back no information was given to me and I lost hope to ever see him again. I prayed silently that the boy found a good home, just like I had and that his father was alright now.

A year later I saw him again, this time on national TV. The small boy was all grown up, not stick thin anymore, but broad with muscle and not scowling silently, but grinning proud in the face of the camera. He had just won a junior tournament in swordsmanship. I knew next to nothing about the sport, but after that I watched every tournament, just to see him again, asking myself if he even remembered me.

Sometimes a bubbly, pink haired girl was with him, talking and hugging excitedly after a win, and on the finals a stoic, dark haired man was with them as well. The channel even introduced him as Mihawk Dracule, the adoptive father of the prodigy and world champion for legendary twelve years in the same sport his son practiced now. With that information it wasn’t surprising that Zoro won the next international championship, bringing the title home again so to say.

When there was a fight in our city, I took the chance, buying tickets for me and my sister. The fight was amazing, Zoro winning with ease as the current champion. Afterwards we hung around, hoping to get a glance of the familiar man. When I first caught sight of the shock of green hair the first time in seven years, I feared that he would think I was some crazy stalker, screaming his name and waving in his direction over the barrier that secluded the back stage part of the building from the public. What was I even doing, he probably didn’t even remember me?!

But when he met my eyes he came walking over, sending the security away that was trying to intercept him and meeting me and my sister at the barrier. His white sword was strapped to his back, clothed in a black track suit, probably fresh from the shower if his wet hair was anything to go by. Zoro had grown tall, towering me and Nojiko easily, not to mention the bulk of someone active in professional sport, but his face looked soft, not intimidating at all.

“Nami, is that you?” he asked with a happy sound and I nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to find you for years, but they wouldn’t say where you are! I saw you on national TV last year, you’re amazing!” I exclaimed and he quickly climbed the barrier to envelop me in a hug. I didn’t expect that from the once so distanced boy and laughed, pointing at my sister.  
“You remember Nojiko? She’s officially my sister now.” I said and she waved patiently. “Right, you got adopted together.. Was it good, you okay?” He asked with concern that he wouldn’t have shown openly as an eleven-year-old. At least this Mihawk Dracule had done a halfway decent job at parenting.

“Yes, Bellemere is a great mother. You seem to be doing fine as well, your adopted father or sister not here today?” I asked in turn and he shook his head. “Na, Mihawk’s not all that comfortable with this anymore after he retired. He still comes to important fight’s but you know..” he trailed of for a while, his eyes wandering. “And Perona has school tomorrow, she needs her sleep or she’s a real monster in the morning.” He explained, sounding genuinely happy this time.

We talked a while after that, exchanging numbers and finally realizing that we lived pretty close. From then on, we were friends once again, meeting at least once a week for dinner if not more. The only exception being if he was out of country for a tournament.  
I moved from home at twenty, living together with Usopp, who went to the same university as me, with him studying engineering and myself with climate science.

Zoro kept his title as the national champion with ease and shortly after his twenty-first birthday even made world champion. A big celebration was held, that was where we first met Daz Bones. Daz was a sportsman himself, having earned national box champion as a heavy weight fighter more than three times. He looked absolutely massive, even towering Zoro, but he was charming with everyone, but obviously flirting with the other victor in our round.

Then the worst imaginable thing happened on his second world championship. The green haired man was stabbed in the chest, right between the ribs, there was blood gushing from his lips. I was watching from home, standing up from the couch in shock.  
The referee was terminating the fight, blowing his whistle loudly, but the man was ignored, Zoro’s opponent swinging his broad sword at the injured man, cutting his torso up from the right hip to the left side of his chest.

Security was holding the uncompliant fighter down, his sword taken away while Zoro collapsed to the light floor, staining red everywhere. The man was desperately clutching his stomach where the most blood and what was probably his innards spilling out.

Mihawk was there, oh god, at least his father was there and Zoro wasn’t all alone in this! I was crying quietly, my hands clutched over my mouth so that I could listen to the commentator’s words describing the horrible scene as the most unsportsmanlike event in history, the other man was instantly banned from sport for his whole life.

Mihawk was holding Zoro’s hands, helping him in staunching the blood flow while talking desperately to his son, probably begging him not to die, to stay awake even as his eyes began to droop. The paramedics finally made their way into the arena, pushing the father away from the bleeding man.

The tournament was cancelled in the wake of this horrible happenings, the title stayed with Zoro for this year. Everyone wished him the best luck and strength in his recovery before the live show was cut short.

I called Perona, she had been watching at home, just like me. She sounded as if she had been crying her eyes out right now, and she probably was still doing exactly that, her brother was currently fighting for his life! She told me she was packing a bag for Zoro and her father already, telling me the name of the hospital he was admitted at in this very moment.  
Usopp, who was watching with me tried to comfort me, patting my back softly before he offered to drive me to the hospital as I was clearly not capable of driving right now. My best friend could be dying while we were talking, and I could do nothing, I wasn’t even there to hold his hand!

I spent the whole drive sobbing like a child, the image of a smiling, eleven-year-old boy swimming together with the gutted man on TV. With all my willpower I forced myself to calm down as we reached the hospital. There was some press, but most probably knew that it would take hours, if not the whole night for some news, so we pushed past them to the reception where we met Perona. She had a blonde man with her, he had probably driven her.

As we were led to a private waiting room the blonde was introduced as Sanji, he was a neighbour of the Dracule family and a friend. In the spacious room we met Mihawk, he was still covered in blood up to his elbows, some smeared on his pants as well, but Perona didn’t care, she instantly ran into his arms and began to cry anew. 

The older man looked dead on his feet and it was Sanji that helped to both of them sit down, offering water and coffee to everyone in the small group. Usopp and I gathered close to them and as the pink haired girl calmed a little, I met the piercing gaze of the ex-champion before me.

“How is he?” I asked in a brittle voice, already scared of the answer. “I don’t know much, they took him away as soon as we got here. He lost a lot of blood, they said something about possible organ failure and a collapsed lung, not to mention the severe shock his body is going thru…” He answered in a sombre tone, stroking the pigtails of his daughter.

“But… But he’ll make it, right?” This time it was Usopp that asked, having met Zoro and instantly labelled him as the strongest man he knows, undefeated and indestructible. He wouldn’t die from two strikes to the chest, right?

It was then, that Mihawk shed two small tears, shaking his head mutely. “I don’t know.” He answered in a chocked gasp. Sanji handed him a mug of coffee before the man lost even more of his composure. “You forget what a stubborn ass your son is. He’ll be back on his feet in no time.” The blonde tried for sarcasm and cheer in his voice, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

Afterwards the room fell silent, Mihawk taking of for a shower shortly, coming back dressed in fresh clothes, without the smell of blood cloying in our noses. Perona had cried herself into exhaustion, sleeping in the lap of her father like a small child would. Said man sat stoic, accepting a second cup of coffee, and after that a third, but he did not move, didn’t speak either except for a short phone call with a man named Shanks, to tell him that there was no news yet.

Sanji, Usopp and myself talked quietly among each other, getting to know the blonde. He told us he was twenty-two as well and worked as a chef in the luxurious restaurant Baratie. It was his adoptive father’s restaurant and he sounded utterly proud of the man, and even prouder that one day he would take charge there.

He was genuinely funny, but also highly sarcastic, and probably a real Casanova with all the compliments he was dishing out in my direction, even though I was sleep deprived, rumpled and cried out.

I gave him my number, but not because I was interested in his flirting, way to overbearing for my taste anyways, but because he was a friend of Zoro. More or less at least, they fought constantly, but Zoro always had his difficulties with finding friends, if he kept anyone around for a long time that meant a lot. And right now, Zoro could probably use every friend he got…

Around eight hours after we had set up camp in the room a tired looking doctor entered. All eyes were on the lanky appearance, including Perona, who had woken instantly. He wore scrubs, fresh, no blood stains, his hands were graceful, long, but tattooed, unusual for a doctor and he looked young, even with the deep circles under his eyes.

The man introduced himself as Dr. Trafalgar Law, the surgeon that had taken on the case of one Roronoa Zoro. He told us that he was finally stable and relief flooded through the room. Then he started retelling his condition at arrival, the complications in the operation rooms and his prognosis for recovery. He cut down on medical slang as best as he could, because even I understood what he said was pretty bad.

“Upon arrival your son’s left side lung was already more or less filled with blood, he was on my table just in time to save his brain from oxygen deprivation and therefore permanent damage. On top of that two of his lower ribs were cut clean, the three above scratched severely, making it difficult to operate. Actually Zoro’s heart gave out one time, stuttering throughout an other critical hour, but with the transfusions he’s getting now we’ll help his body recover from that shock. Other than that, he was rather lucky, his liver and kidneys are just fine surprisingly, his digestive system got cut in several places, but nothing fatal. With the right nutrition his organs will survive without permanent damage. I’m positive that your son will wake up soon, without the risk of falling into a coma, and afterwards he will recover to a mostly normal life if he follows a few rules.”

The Doctor addressed Mihawk directly and the older man nodded in-between his explanations. The picture of Zoro, spread wide open on a metal table, his heart giving out was terrifying, even the old master of swordsmanship swallowing deeply while Dr. Law told us.

“I’m not a fulltime physician, but if it’s okay with the family I would like to keep track of his recovery. The operation was difficult, I’d feel safer if I had an eye on him personally.” The dark-haired man said after letting all the information sink in and Perona nodded eagerly.

“Yes, please! You saved his life, if you’ll watch over him, I’m sure he’ll recover faster, you’re such a good doctor!” she exclaimed, thankful to the man and after a while Mihawk nodded in agreement. “Alright. I want the best care for my son, if you feel capable enough than you should do that.”

After that conversation the tattooed doctor led as to the ICU, where Zoro laid in a bed, that made him look incredibly small. There was a machine that helped him with breathing, one to monitor his heartrate, thank god it was stable, and his blood levels. I was no good at biology, but the numbers looked low even to me. He was surrounded by tubes and cables, about five needles sticking into his left arm, feeding his body with fresh blood, hydration, pain killers and who knows what else.

Only two were allowed to actually go inside, it was obvious that his adopted family would settle next to him until he woke up. The three of us stood outside, watching through the thick glass that swallowed all sounds. Perona was talking if the constant movement of her lips meant anything, carding her finger through the short, green hair in a careful manner, Mihawk was quiet, just holding onto the hand that wasn’t stuck with endless needles.

It took another three hours for the young man on the bed to stir. His eyes fluttered, squinting at the light even though it was dimmed. He probably had a horrible headache with all the blood he had lost. The underside of his nose was still crusted with blood, his lips chapped and they moved slightly. He was awake, he was talking to his family.

I felt so relieved that after more than thirteen hours of waiting I cried again. His chest was bandaged so thick, that I wondered if he was even still there underneath, but his sister grabbed his other large hand and pointed in the direction of the window, straight at us. He turned his head slightly and the three of us waved, his brittle lips turned up into a smile, exhausted and pained, but a smile nonetheless.

We called Law, so the doctor could check up on his patient and introduce himself properly. Zoro fell asleep again and the nurses urged us to go home, to sleep and eat, and although reluctant we did. 

As soon as Zoro was out of the ICU we all visited regularly. He still slept a lot and even while awake he was groggy with medication, but he was still alive. After I saw the pictures of him, bleeding out in the arena, literally holding his guts in with his own hands I thought it was a miracle. For a short while his recovery was topic number one in the media, a lot of sports officials came to visit, wishing him well, even some politicians.

Mihawk had always hated the press and Zoro obviously took after him in that regard, no blood connection needed at all.

One of the men that came to visit was Daz Bones, the man that had so vigorously flirted with Zoro after his first world champion title, and he was still flirting mercilessly if you asked me. But while confined to bed, alone most of the time, Zoro seemed to bask in the attention the man gifted him with. He soaked the presence of the tall boxer right up.

His recovery was going well, Law did an excellent job as his doctor, helping him figure out what kind of training and diet would benefit his body and what could possibly hurt him. After a month and a half, way too long if you’d ask Zoro he was released from hospital. He still had to visit every second day and he had a lot of therapy going on, but he felt good.

He got pills to help him adjust to an all solid diet again, without IV’s to help him get enough nutrients any more and more activity every day.

After eight months he was back in a good form, back to training hard and apparently dating Daz as well. I was really happy for him, still meeting him often. We formed a little group, Usopp and me, meeting Sanji and Zoro for dinner, sometimes even at Baratie, where the blonde would cook for us, often sauntering into a bar afterwards, or stumbling back to Usopp’s and my place to sleep it off.

Daz never went with us on nights like that, sometimes even Perona or Law would join, but the Doctor was always busy with his Job and the little boy he had at home. Chopper was absolutely adorable, he would often show us pictures of his orphaned nephew. After growing up in the foster care system himself he didn’t want that for Chopper, so even though he was young, only four years our senior and very busy at the hospital he took him in, and he looked absolutely overjoyed whenever talking about the small boy.

Perona was much the same, she studied a lot for her biology major and had a girlfriend as well, but I had no idea why Daz never joined us. He retired from his boxing career, only keeping fit as a hobby now, he probably had enough money to never work again, but Zoro didn’t tell what he did either, so we were left in the dark about the man most of the time.

Then the green haired man came to meet us less and less, claiming that he wanted to spend time with his boyfriend and at first, we understood, but the dark-skinned boxer seemed to go out of his way to never meet us and it felt like he was pulling Zoro away from us.

I didn’t speak these thoughts aloud, it would sound mean, like I didn’t want nice things for my friend after his grievous injury, but I just knew that the others felt the same way.

And then Zoro’s father died. Not Mihawk, but his real father by blood, Koshiro. He told me about the sparse times they met, about the few letters they wrote, about the money he sent in the hopes of helping the man somehow, but his depression seemed to rule his life, even after all these years.

Zoro was not one to cry, even when he was in great pain he always tried for a reassuring smile, a trait that was probably traceable to that father as well, trying to protect others even as he himself hurt. But when he was told by the hospital that Koshiro had killed himself, cutting himself open with one of his precious swords he broke down.

The green haired man, that was usually so calm and collected couldn’t stop crying, he clutched the white sword, the sword his sister had used and his father had gifted him to his chest while he could barely breath. It looked like he was having some kind of panic attack, Mihawk tried to coach him through it, but he just couldn’t catch his breath.

Again, Usopp, Sanji and I were staring at the scene, useless to calm him until Perona handed him his phone, immediately calling Daz. Shortly after the call the tall boxer picked the swordsman up, literally to all of our astonishment and took him away, to calm down he said.  
Only a week later Zoro moved out permanently, to live with his boyfriend.

He took over the Dojo his father had neglected for years and started teaching and we saw him less often with every passing week. The only times when we all met up together again were important tournaments. Even after the injury, that left behind a gigantic valley of scars Zoro won the next world championship again. It was the national championship that dealt him a bad hand this time around. His opponent was a newcomer this season, an incredibly tall man, way broader than our friend.

Usually that wasn’t a problem for him, but he was once again cut between the ribs, leaving him wheezing, unable to complete the fight. Blood dripping from his lips and nose he had to give up, he knew how blood filling one’s lungs felt now and was rushed to the hospital.

It wasn’t that bad this time, but Law sat family and friends down with a serious look on his face. “You’ll make a full recovery this time, but your lungs won’t take kindly to any more hits. I know this sport is important to you, but as your doctor I have to recommend that you retire. Your body has been weakened, even seemingly small injuries can end in disaster now, not to mention the mental strain you fight every time you get back in the arena after you’ve been so seriously hurt.”

It was a blow that left Zoro stunned, mute even. Mihawk agreed readily though, holding onto his son’s arm. “I know you love fighting, I know it was always your dream to be the best, better than me, but you already are. You won world championship three years in a row, national since you’re old enough to participate even. There’s no need to push your body more Zoro, nobody can take that from you, even if you retire. All I want is for you to be happy, and to live. I don’t want to hold your dead body in my arms son, please don’t do that to me or your sister.”

The dark-haired man spoke low, but full of emotion he was usually so distanced from. And after a long time of silence, to long if you ask me, my best friend nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s just how sport is, you win, you celebrate, you get hurt or old and you quit. Nobody wants to see me die on camera.” He sighed and hugged his father.

“I still got the Dojo after all, and Daz, I’m not gonna get bored, he’s retired too after all.” He told with a strained smile and I went to hug him as soon as his father released him. “I’m so glad that you finally used that one brain cell you still have and are way to stubborn to just die on us.” I whispered in his ear and he snorted. “I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you and all.”

After that I thought we would see him more often again, after all he had a lot of time on his hands now, but we didn’t. It looked like he was glued to that man’s side, that talked about being Zoro’s boyfriend without ever meeting with his friends and literally cutting him out of our lives as best as he could without outright telling him that he couldn’t see us anymore.

The Dojo seemed to be running smoothly again, but even then Zoro was reluctant to meet any of us, making calls instead of showing up for dinner.  
I was furious with Daz even before I knew what was going on behind closed doors. The next few months turned out to be some of the worst in my life, not to mention how fucking horrible they probably where for my best friend…


	2. Sanji's suspicions

I grew up with my father and four siblings, most of the time being hit, belittled and locked up in our cellar. Vinsmoke Judge was an important politician and ruthless in every aspect of life, getting his five children to hate each other, playing them against each other was just a part of the game for him, to determine which one of us was the strongest, the successor.

Nobody helped us, the media and the police turned a blind eye to the violence that was oh so obvious in our bruises and mannerism, so I ran away. The first few times they found me, brought me back home where punishment would await me, but I never stopped trying to get away.

It was egoistic, sometimes I still wonder what happened to my three brothers or my sister, but back than that was the only thing I could do. And then, when I was nine, nobody came looking for me anymore.

I lived on the streets, like a stray dog, alone and slowly starving. Then I met a man going by Zeff. I was sitting in front of his restaurant, the air hot and dry, I haven’t had a real drink in what was probably more than two days and I felt accordingly, like I was going to die.

The man offered me his hand, leading me into his restaurants even though there were customers staring at me and gave me water and a plate of delicious food. Afterwards I couldn’t get up, I fell asleep right at that table and the tall man laid me down in his guest room.

The next day he cooked for me again and we started talking, or rather, he started asking questions. Where I came from, where my parents were, if I had a place to go and so on. I had no answers for him, but he did not send me away, as if my silence was enough to tell him that I couldn’t go back to wherever I came from.

So I stayed with Zeff. He never officially adopted me, but he bought clothes for me, he fed me, he sent me to school, he taught me how to cook. He was more of a father than I could ever wish for.

His business, the Baratie, was going good and he was happy whenever I helped him out in the kitchen. We moved to a really nice place, a big apartment in a fancy complex slightly out of town. It was surrounded by a luscious green park and guarded by a friendly man who waved at me whenever I passed. When I asked Zeff why our complex had a guard he answered because there were a few rather famous people living here.

One of them was our direct neighbour, Mihawk Dracule. Zeff said that he had been the world champion in sword fighting for a record time and I nodded excited about this new information. I could imagine it well, the pale man looked already scary without a sword in hand, his eyes were really intense, but he was usually going out of everyone’s way, as if he just genuinely didn’t like people.

Except for his daughter. Her name was Perona, we went to the same school, but she was three years younger than me. Sometimes we played together though, when we met outside the building, she was really bubbly, her pink hair resembling her personality perfectly. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine that she was related to Mihawk by blood. She was probably adopted, just like me.

The recently retired fighter proved my suspicions right when I was thirteen years old, because one day he came home with a second child in tow, a green haired boy who was about my age. He didn’t speak, didn’t wave, didn’t smile, he just sent a deadly glare in my direction. My answer was a middle finger in the air and a smack on the head by Zeff, something about being rude. I just pushed my tongue out in the direction of the old man and went back inside, forgetting the new boy for a while.

But only until he was introduced as the new student in my class. If it was his or my bad luck I couldn’t say, but again we glared at each other like movie archenemies would have done. So his name was Roronoa Zoro and he was thirteen years old, just like the rest of class, everyone was instructed to be nice, but most weren’t impressed by that. The girls were weirded out by his appearance and with how silent he was. He looked like he just hit a rapid growth spurt because his arms and legs seemed a little too long, his shoulders wide and bony because the rest of his body hadn’t caught up yet.

He was also a really silent guy, barely spoke in class and in breaks not at all if he could avoid it and when he did his voice cracked horribly, like it so often was for teenage boys, but that didn’t stop the others from laughing about it. Every boy at least tried to pick on him, saying mean things or pushing him, but he wasn’t a really good target, he didn’t argue, didn’t fight until one day somebody said something about a dead sister or something and Zoro hit the boy so hard that nobody got near him again.

So at school he was an outcast, but at home he was like a different person. He was still a very silent child, at least if he wasn’t cursing, but he had the patience of a saint when it came to Perona. She got the scary boy to play with her plushies and toy horses outside in the sunshine and was very polite with Mihawk on the few occasions I overheard them talking.

We were still mostly ignoring each other, but when I stopped some bullies from hitting Perona (It’s not cool to hit a lady, even if her brother’s a moron!) he thanked me. I wouldn’t exactly call it a friendship, but an alliance of some kind.

Zoro grew really tall and filled out his gangly teenage body with muscle. He did the same sport as his father and I was deeply impressed whenever I went to watch his training or his fights. I was a little jealous for a while, but that went away as soon as I understood that Zoro wasn’t really interested in love or relationships. I even saw him leave a party with another man. Not that it bothered me, I had experimented for a while, deciding that I was mostly a lady’s man with exceptions, but it meant that I had no reason to be jealous of the moss coloured gorilla that was my neighbour.

I lived in France for a while, studying under a great cook other than my father for once. Zoro and I lost sight of each other back then, but when I came back, we were both way more mature. Not just physically, but mentally as well, I mean we still fight a lot, but now we can admit that we’re actually friends.

And then came that horrible injury. Without an extended family I had never experienced the loss of a loved one and when I saw him in hospital I was so, so scared that the man would be the first funeral I had to visit in my life. All I could do was bite my tongue, remembering the moody teenagers’ insults, his strong hands when holding a sword. I just had to believe he would pull through, and even though I was lying horribly when I said everything would be alright, I was glad that it turned out fine in the end.

I helped Law with the plan for Zoro’s diet and cooked most of his meals, because honestly, Mihawk was a great father to his kids, but the man couldn’t cook a decent meal if his life depended on it. I swear, the man’s diet nowadays is probably fifty percent rice and fifty percent wine!

I also helped with the physical training as soon as he was home again, slowly but surely Zoro was back to his old healthy self and started with sport again.  
For a while it looked like the injury had at least not been all bad, as Zoro began dating in the aftermath of it. Unsurprisingly it was a man, but who exactly said boyfriend was still left me stunned. Daz Bones was a charming man, no doubt about that, but Zoro wasn’t usually one for that type, hell he wasn’t all that into relationships at all!

But the ex-boxer made my friend smile and he was genuinely affectionate whenever they hugged or kissed, so for a while I thought that they really were good for each other.  
And then Zoro basically disappeared out of our lives.

He didn’t show up for dinner anymore, claiming his boyfriend was going out with him, just this once, but more like every single time in reality. I was pissed with him, and then Koshiro committed suicide, completely shattering his son.

I know that they saw each other every once in a while, and those meetings always left Zoro with a sad look in his eyes. I understood how it felt trying to please a man who could not be satisfied, the death of his father didn’t end those feelings of inadequacy, but deepened his guilt instead, the silent boy was used to taking the blame and forgiving his father, he had to feel absolutely terrible after that suicide.

In fact, Zoro felt so bad that he could not stop crying, something I had never seen in him before. I felt so shocked that I just let it happen, I just watched as Bones showed his fucking face and took the still crying man out of his father’s arms, took him away from under our noses.

Our friend did not talk to us in any way for a week, then suddenly announcing that he would move to live with his boyfriend. Mihawk was rightfully furious about this decision, saying that Zoro was not in the right mental state to make big decisions like that, but that only served to drive a wedge between the loving family, encouraging the green haired man to pack his things even faster.

Our friendship was strained after that, really, the only time we all met together were his most important tournaments, but other than that we did not see a lot of Zoro anymore. And Daz? He never showed his face at all, as if he had finally realized that we couldn’t stand him with how he was separating our friend from us.

And on top of all that Zoro got seriously injured in the arena a second time. We were hot on his tail as he was rushed to the ER this time and he was lucky to be once again treated by no other doctor than Law, who was already familiar with his scarred body.

The operation went fine and was way shorter than with the last injury, when he woke up Zoro looked a lot better as well, way more awake and comprehending, that was probably why he was so shocked that he couldn’t say a word when Law, as his doctor and his friend told him that it was time to quit.

That was hard, I knew that this sport was basically the centre of his life, but Mihawk found just the right words. A title meant nothing if his life was on the line..

For a while Zoro’s life basically fell into radio silence. He was working hard to get the Dojo his father had left him with going again, that much I knew, but not much else. He still didn’t show up to most of our meals together, instead phoning Nami sometimes and when he came, he was rather silent. Not that that was unusual for him, but he did talk when asked about the Dojo and the kids there, but not when one asked about his home life with Daz, all the free time he now had or his physical therapy with Law.

It was kind of suspicious, I felt like something wasn’t right, especially because I had helped him in the past with his diet and the therapy part, for Zoro that had never been a struggle to talk about. He kept to himself when he was in pain, yes, but the actual recovery he was always openly discussing with family and friends alike, now he ignored all the questions, as if he didn’t even hear them.

Determined to find out what was wrong I called Law, only to be informed that Law was not actually Zoro’s doctor anymore. He had cancelled all further meetings and therapy sessions, even going as far as visiting a different hospital now.

When I asked him why that happened Law sighed heavily. “He said he wasn’t comfortable with me anymore. As a doctor I simply have to accept that, it’s his right to choose a doctor to his liking, as a friend I am concerned. His body was doing well and he didn’t act as if he had a problem with my methods or my personality for the matter, there was no warning until he suddenly cancelled all appointments.”

I could only swallow, agreeing with his concerned. He couldn’t answer when I asked what hospital Zoro now went to, private information he said and I nodded, disappointed but understanding.

“But I’ll try to keep an eye on him anyways. Chopper isn’t one for fighting and violence and all that, but he likes Zoro, so he goes to train at his Dojo two times a week now. He doesn’t meet any of you anymore, am I right?” The tired sounding doctor explained and this time it was my turn to sigh deeply.  
“Yes, and even if he shows up, he doesn’t really speak to us anymore. Only ever about that Dojo of his. I’m glad Chopper and you’ll keep him in sight, he’s good with kids and I guess kids are good for him as well in that depressing place.” It was probably full of memories from his childhood, a bad place for him when I myself remembered how his father made him cry the last time…

“I’ll call as soon as I know more. Keep trying to stay in contact with him, with the way he looks his mental health probably isn’t doing so well. He just doesn’t realize now, but he’ll need his friends.” Law said before wishing me a good night and hanging up after I agreed.

I felt like I needed to do something right now, Zoro was going through some shit and that boyfriend or whatever Daz called himself was definitely not helping! I was furious and called Nami to tell her about the things Law had said. I honestly regretted telling her solely because of how scared she sounded for her best friend. But she was also determined to get Zoro to open up, to reach out and finally talk, in the end it was the right decision.

As soon as the both of us could manage we went to the Dojo while Zoro was giving a lecture. On one hand it was nice to watch him with a sword in hand, he looked comfortable and confident like that, a look that we were beginning to miss when it came to our friend, on the other hand it meant he couldn’t just run away or ignore us, after all he had to watch the kids out and clean afterwards.

He also had lectures for adults, even training some young professionals, but Zoro just had a special connection to kids. He still looked stoic and strict on the outside, but he gave the kids some smiles and a thumbs up as well, he really was a good teacher.

One of the kids was Chopper, as Law had promised, he was one of the smallest and youngest, facing a boy with wild black hair about the same age. They were talking animatedly, it didn’t look like they were concentrating much, but after the fifth time Zoro admonished them to be quiet he gave up.

But it didn’t really matter apparently, all the older kids concentrated on the lesson, fallowing the words and moves of their teacher. They were already used to the antics of the younger ones it seemed. Two teenagers, one with short blonde hair, the other with longer black locks and freckles kicked the loud boy whenever they got the chance, looking stern but not hurting him. I realized quickly that the three were probably brothers and shook my head at their antics.

Zoro wore a sports jacket with long sleeves, only taking it off at the very end of the lesson because he was staring to sweat. There were two dark bruises on his arms, one colouring his wrist, the other on the upper arm, peeking out from the black T-shirt he wore underneath. Nami had seen them as well and looked about ready to go and storm Bones apartment to twist his neck.

Zoro was a lot of things, but clumsy was not a trait you would easily associate with the tall man, both of us knew that and we instantly had suspicions. But in the end, they were just suspicions, right? We couldn’t just assume what had happened, maybe there was a normal, healthy explanation for this.

I was trying to calm myself with those words and was ripped out of my thoughts as Chopper hugged my legs. The cute child always brought a smile to my face and I affectionately ruffled his brown curls while Zoro came over to us.

“What are you doing here?” He asked with his arms folded in front of his torso defensively, charming like a brick to the face, typical Zoro. I laughed and Nami shrugged before she took on a more serious expression. “We haven’t seen you in weeks, you’re even ignoring our texts, we worry for you Zoro.” She said, carefully reaching out to touch his bruised wrist.  
He flinched back abruptly, hastily shrugging his jacket back on.

“No, don’t hide those, what happened there, are you hurt? I’m sure Law can check them when he comes to get Chopper here.” I interrupted, grabbing the sleeve, answering as if I didn’t know already that Law was not Zoro’s physician anymore.

“It’s nothing really. Luffy was playing around, he accidently hit my wrist.” Our friend said without meeting our eyes, not even mentioning the bruise farther up his arm, probably hoping that we had not seen.

I was glad that I had really good hearing, because the blonde teenager scowled at his smaller brother, who was probably said Luffy with his inattention and the amount of energy he still had, jumping around while waiting for their parents to collect them. “That’s not true. He lied, like last week with the bruise on his face.” He whispered to the other teenager, but I caught the words and stared at the boys for a second.

Most other kids were gone already when Law showed up, he looked rumpled, like he had just come from another thirteen-hour shift, which was likely the case.

Zoro swallowed audibly and I glanced back at him after greeting the doctor. “Ahm.. I’m not actually Law’s patient anymore. There’s this clinic right next to our apartment, I thought it would be easier if I switched there. I mean, Law always has a lot to do and is a surgeon, not a physician first things first, I’m just keeping him from his job. I bet you’re tired, no need to work more hours for a little bruise, it’s not a big deal.” The taller man huffed, now looking anything but self-confident if you asked me.

“I’ll show up to dinner next week, alright? I’m just really busy, with the Dojo and all, it’s a lot if you know what I mean. But don’t worry about me, everything’s fine. You better go now, I still got a lot to do.” It was an obvious dismissal, Zoro already turning his back, disappearing in what I guessed to be a small office space and not coming back out.

When I turned around Chopper was clinging to his step fathers legs, looking sad, Law looked distinctively uncomfortable, patting his nephew’s shoulder in a protective way. “It’s been like that since the first time we showed up. He’s closed off, defensive and started lying about things like the bruises. I fear that man isn’t treating him right.” The doctor talked his thought through with us, voice low and sombre. Nami nodded, her fringe hiding watery eyes and I turned back to the children behind us.

“What did you mean when you said Zoro lied?” I asked the other blonde in the room and the teenage boy flinched, halfway hiding behind his taller brother. “Luffy didn’t hit him! He’s an idiot sometimes and not all that good with swords, but he never accidentally hit someone, least of all our teacher.” The freckled boy, obviously the brave one of the bunch retorted, Luffy jumping around his brothers in agreement. “Ace and Sabo are right, that wasn’t me!” And sadly, I believed the boys.

“Yes, last week he had a big bruise in his face as well, he told us he fell down the stairs, but he had no bruises or scrapes on his arms at all. Usually you would protect your head when falling, right?” Sabo explained his own suspicions after stepping out from behind his brother. And damn was that boy right. I buried my face in my hands for a second to calm down and desperately turned to Nami and Law.

“What do we do now?” I asked with a hitch in my voice I hadn’t felt since Zoro’s first injury.  
Law shook his head, sadly familiar with the topic of domestic violence in more than one way. “As long as he won’t say anything there’s nothing we can do.” And if Law usually sounded tired, he sounded absolutely bitter right now.

There was a slight tug on my pant leg and I let my eyes wander down, meeting the dark irises of Luffy staring up at me. “Zoro gets hurt by his boyfriend, right?” He asked, oddly perceptive for such a wild child and I nodded, no sound coming out of my tight throat.  
“How do you know that?” It was Nami who asked, kneeling down to eye level with the boy. “He was here one time, he’s mean to him.”

Law kneeled down next to Nami, holding Chopper in his arms and waving Luffy’s teenage brothers over as well. “I’m going to give you four a big job, only you kids can do, okay? Because Zoro won’t talk to us or show us even though we’re his friends, please watch out for him. Tell us if you see anything that you think isn’t right or if he’s hurt somewhere, yeah?”

It seemed unfair to burden these kids with something like this, but at the moment there was no other choice. You just couldn’t hide from kids’ eyes, other than adults they saw everything. Having Chopper, Luffy, Ace and Sabo watch over Zoro at least meant there was some kind of safety net if things went down the deep end.

When we finally left that place, I felt like I would never sleep again. I hugged both Nami and Law, even the usually touch averted man could use some comfort after those news and when I got home I started to search. I needed to know where that man lived, where Zoro now lived, we didn’t even know that for fuck’s sake! That should have been our first clue that something was wrong!  
I felt like things would go horribly wrong in the near future and when that happened, I needed to know where they lived, so I could help somehow, because right now I felt so unbelievably useless. Like I was a child once again, getting hit by his brothers, unable to do anything but run away. But running away was not an option anymore…


	3. A helping hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Robin backstory, but mostly poor, hurt Zoro ^^'

My name is Nico Robin, I am 32 years of age and work in a private clinic as a doctor and psychologist. My husband, Franky works there as well, it was where we met actually. His field of expertise is more interesting than mine really, as someone who is engineering protheses to replace lost limbs he does a lot of good.

He’s come from a family of engineers, they have built a lot of amazing tech over the years, while I come from a family of scholars. Science was always very important in my life, even though I was angry at my parents a lot, for leaving me behind whenever they went away to conduct research all over the globe.

My father was into mathematics and astrophysics while my mother was an archaeologist, after deciding I wanted to do neither of those things I went for medicine and history instead. Yes, both, a double major and two doctorates, thank you very much.

I was always proud of those achievements, especially because a lot of people tried to tell me I couldn’t do those things, all because I am a woman. Well, I proved them wrong and am now very happy that my man doesn’t pull me back but instead pushes me forward in my doings.

Franky accepted my wish to not have children, even though he loves them and he lets me work as much as I’d like, even though with our families we didn’t actually need the money. Technically I am the breadwinner, he does something indescribably good, but prosthetics are expensive, different in every case and related to a lot of work on both the engineers, the doctors and the patient’s side. There’s not a lot of profit in the business is what I wanted to say.

Working in a private clinic has a lot of perks. It meant I did not need to worry about incredibly long hours common in public hospitals, it meant a very good and steady income, nice clothes instead of scrubs every day, holidays whenever I wished for them. It’s generally neat, but there are a few downsides as well.

Mostly the snobby half celebrities the nice neighbourhood attracted as a crowd. Some of them tend to treat even their doctors like shit, others were practically fanning themselves with their money, demanding special treatment when all treatment here was already exclusive and especially weird were the calls. All doctors received work related mobile phones, they could reach us whenever. We are not obliged to take these calls, but it was good for trust and emergencies as we were technically not open 24/7.

Most calls did no harm, easy questions out of operating hours or a quick schedule for an appointment, but some were rather bizarre, some outright funny even, and there weren’t all that many things that made me laugh aloud, it was a real accomplishment.

The most important thing to me though was working at the same place as my husband. Even though both of us were really busy we could always eat together, get up together and go back home together. That was nice, especially in summer when Franky would take us on his bike.

Another thing was the short distance to our small house. It’s a warm, comfortable place with a big garden where I grow a lot of flowers and Franky can build something that’s not an arm or leg for once. His favourites were small model ships actually.

All these things make me sound like I am some happy go lucky person, but really, I’m not.  
It took me a long time to get to the good place I am at now.

I always struggled with my mental health, the absence of my parents in my youth and the constant pressure everyone put on me after I revealed my ambitions were hard on me, I just never liked to show it.

At one point my depression was so bad that I had suicidal thoughts, meeting Franky had pulled my mind out of a really dark place. For a while he was my will to live.

Nowadays this isn’t a problem anymore, thank god, but the human mind interested me greatly, so I began to study it. I got my third doctor in psychology and actively helped people get out of dark places like I was in once. It finally felt like I was really doing some good to the world.

But it was also my psychology degree that made alarm bells ring in my head when I first met Roronoa Zoro.

I was always well informed about my patients, so I studied his records before I went into my office to meet him in person. He was recently written over to this clinic, claiming it was an easier commute than his old doctor. I got that, he lived in one of the luxurious blocks surrounding the private clinic, but his last doctor was Trafalgar Law. He was known as one of the best surgeons the country had to offer, so it was a little hard to believe he would simple change that for thirty minutes less commute, that would be literally insane.

Not that I thought I was a bad doctor or anything, I am very competent, but Law was familiar with this man for years now, he had treated two potentially life-threatening injuries and a lot of smaller ailments as well. That built a lot of trust and there was nothing indicating that my fellow doctor had done anything to break said trust.

Zoro had even cancelled his still ongoing physical therapy sessions. It just looked really weird on paper, maybe it was something personal though? That was none of my business, so I just looked over what the nurse gave me about his condition this time around.

Apparently he was in for a broken arm. An accident? He was not in active sport anymore, his records stated that he retired in the wake of the last injury, damaging his lung critically for the second time.

The nurses had no statement about the origin of the injury yet, so I went to ask the patient himself about it. I entered the well-lit office space with a slight bow and a smile on my lips.  
“Good day sir, although it does not seem to go to well for you if the broken arm is anything to go by, right? I am Nico Robin, your new doctor, Robin is fine for me though. May I call you Zoro?”

Usually I preferred a last name basis for patients, but Zoro was nine years younger than me and I just had a feeling that I would be seeing him around here a lot, so I made an exception this time. The young man appreciated it obviously, accepting this offer as I sat down next to his cot on a wheeled stool and pulled on clean gloves from the small table next to us.

“Could you please tell me how you acquired this injury today?” I asked him while carefully taking his hand, so I could at first visibly inspect the arm.

“It’s a little embarrassing, the classic, I guess. I was cleaning at home and I climbed a chair to get the lamp, I fell, catching my weight on one arm. It just snapped really loudly and started swelling instantly, so I had to come here.” He sounded nervous while explaining this, not meeting my eyes, but it was not the usual nervousness.

Zoro was not afraid of this situation, he looked relaxed while we introduced ourselves, he was level-headed when he first entered the clinic, even going as far as declining pain killers up until treatment began.

If I wasn’t looking at the damaged arm right now, I wouldn’t even have guessed that he was in pain. He was well accustomed to hospitals and doctors, he was not afraid of this, but of explaining the injury it seemed.  
That was never a good sign, I was suspicious, but didn’t question it further.

If my suspicions lead up to something and I would get to see him a lot more often from now on I would find out what was really going on. Wild guessing would not help in this situation at all, but perhaps get him to leave again, like he had done with Doctor Law and that was a reaction I most definitely didn’t want to provoke.

“Ah yes, all people know how dangerous that is, they do it nonetheless. If you already know your mistake, please refrain from doing so in the future again, but for now we’re going to do something about this.” I smiled while agreeing with his story and took my time examining the arm.

His wrist was coloured a deep purple all around, some green flowing within, while the obvious break was a little farther back on his forearm. The area was discoloured as well and swollen to what was probably double in size, which was a lot since his arms were muscled and thick in general. His upper arm seemed fine, as was the other one. A second bruise was forming high on his cheek. Just to be on the safe side I checked the rest of his body as well, the spine was fine, as were his legs, no inner injuries, except for a large bruise on his hip, the same side as his arm, so probably from the fall as well.

“You must have very high ceilings where you live, I guess, you fell really hard.” I said while checking that the bones beneath the bruise were alright. What I was actually thinking was closer to I don’t believe you fell, someone pushed you with a lot of force.

“Did you hit your head or lost consciousness at any point of time?” I asked next while holding his face still to touch his strong cheekbone, red, starting to darken in colour already. He shook his head when I let go, like expected, he was way too clear to have hurt his head.

“That’s very good, but still, watch out for dizziness, nausea or problems with your sight. Come back here right away if any of these signs appear or if the pain increases. We’re going to take a quick X-ray of your arm, but it looks like a simple fracture to me, something that will heal with rest alone, no fixation needed.” I explained patiently and he nodded, once again relaxed while I lead him to our X-ray room.

In the private clinic there was no long wait and the pictures were ready shortly after. I showed the young man his arm and the break, then one of the nurses set on getting him a cast ready.

While his arm was fixed, I went and got him some painkillers ready, at home he would definitely need them and wrote everything down in his file. This was suspicious, I needed everything down to a T.  
The bruise on his face didn’t fit his story, generally it looked like too much force was involved for a simple fall, his behaviour was odd. His bruised wrist was a lot worse than it should be, it was probably already injured two to three days ago if the colour was anything to go by.

But in the end, I had to let the young man go, giving him my number and internally swearing to myself that I would always pick up all calls from now on.

His arm healed just fine, he was strong and young after all, his body still fit enough to heal most injuries on it’s own. But only a few weeks later his boyfriend brought him in again. Daz Bones was a tall man, even towering his athletic boyfriend, hair shorn short and menacing eyes. His full lips were always smiling, but the rest of him didn’t. All nurses instantly liked him, he was charming, joking even as Zoro was wheezing in pain.

This time it was three broken ribs and no explanation at all. He insisted that he did not know how his ribs broke, it was probably because they were weak after his injury from years ago. He was not completely wrong, his lowest rib was broken again, right next to the old break, strenuous activity did that sometimes, even hard coughing could break a rib in extreme circumstances, but the other two ribs are farther up. They had never been broken before.

I told him that, but no further explanations were made. The broken bones are no danger to the lung, they would have to heal on their own, so there was not a lot we could do about it. I taped his chest to bring his broken bones some stability and relax the muscle, then I handed him a new packet of painkillers and let him go again.

Daz was seemingly waiting for his boyfriend like a patient saint, leading him home with an arm around his waist. It was cutesy couple stuff for most, but in my eyes, it was a highly possessive gesture.

Zoro’s ribs were actually coming along nicely, I scheduled a check-up every following week, but the young man felt uneasy. It wasn’t something he outright said, it was just obvious in the way he acted, even for someone who didn’t know him all that well yet.

He didn’t speak to the receptionist other than to announce himself to me, he straight out ignored the nurses that greeted him and talked as few words as possible in my office, only giving answers when I prompted him to mostly.

The nurses began gossiping about him in a rude manner, asking how a brute like him could end up with someone like Daz, who was sweettalking all of them whenever he came here to bring or get his boyfriend, sometimes even bringing flowers or chocolates for the clinic’s staff.

It was very clear that the dark-skinned man was filthy rich, he wore expensive brand clothes, a thick gold chain around his neck, designer sunglasses. But there was more, apparently all of Zoro’s hospital related bills went to Daz Bones, not to mention that the apartment they lived in was the ex-box star’s as well.

Zoro on the other side wore mostly normal clothes, often showing up in sweatpants and sneakers, big and comfy looking jackets. It was known that he was adopted by Mihawk Dracule, his own monetary situation mostly unknown. Some even blamed his success in sport to his adopted father, foolishly claiming everybody could have done it with the training of a champion.

I guessed that the young sportsman just wasn’t a very talkative person in general, he most definitely looked the stoic, silent type, but how silent he was when visiting the clinic just fit right in with my suspicions. There was still no explanation about how his ribs broke after all.

As I said, the ribs themselves healed good, but my patient was struggling with his breathing. Deep breaths were important for the body, most people breathe wrong, but as a sportsman Zoro knew how important a healthy breathing was and how it felt. And at the moment it most definitely didn’t feel right. At first it was the pain, that was normal, but as the pain regressed his breath didn’t flow easier.

“It is probably related to your former injuries. The body remembers pain very well, your body is simply afraid to breath deeper because it fears it will hurt.” I explained. Of course, he claimed that he wasn’t afraid and I agreed, because that was not a conscious decision of the mind, but something unconscious the body felt.  
“Do you eat well, sleep enough? Are you stressed? Actually, stress is the most common occurrence for pain like that and struggle with breathing, for example, Asthma can be triggered entirely from stress, without being sick before.”

And again, Zoro was not meeting my eyes while shrugging his shoulders defensively. “I guess I eat good? Law and a friend helped me a lot with figuring out my diet, though I’m not really good a cooking. Also, I feel like I sleep a lot, too much if I’m being honest, so there is absolutely no reason why I should feel stressed.” He stated firmly and I shook my head, sighing.  
“So you do feel stressed. Claiming there’s no reason to doesn’t make it any less valuable of a feeling, you know.” I answered in a condescending tone.

My patient did not gift me with any answer to that, but that only told me I’m right about this. “Okay, so the best would be to reduce stress, as you don’t know what’s causing it in the first place that will be a little difficult. Definitely continue the diet Doctor Trafalgar figured out for you and sleep as much as you’d like, it’s good for your recovery, believe me. You quit your physical therapy, right?” He simply nodded and I quickly went through some files in my desk.

“I don’t know why you quit them, but I assume you would have brought it up if you wished to continue, so I’m not going to force you into new sessions, I’m giving you some spreadsheets on exercise you can do at home.”

At least he seemed grateful for that option before leaving me to my thoughts once again.

A few weeks later he was visibly better, his ribs were healed completely, his breathing was deeper but the most important indicator was his smile. He wasn’t one to smile often, but when he thanked me his face was adorned by a real smile, that thinned his lips and made his eyes squint in a way that could not be fake.

And for a while I thought things were better. He didn’t come to the clinic with a new ailment, he didn’t call, he kept to his physical therapy at home, he was fine.

Until he showed up in the clinic looking like he had been runover by a bus. He nearly collapsed in the entrance hall, the screaming of the staff there alerting me of a possible emergency, so I rushed to the reception and quickly found his tall form only held up by shaky legs, two male nurses and the wall.

“Get him to the nearest room, carefully.” I instructed them, stabilising Zoro’s neck while the men helped him move his unwilling body. The most noticeable injury, that had most definitely caused his unstable state was a giant gash on his head that spanned the whole right side, dripping blood down the side of his face, covering his ear and clumping his green hair in a way that reminded me of a horror movie. It was also the reason I chose to hold onto his neck, an injury like that could wreck your body horribly, if his backbone or brain were hurt this could end up to be fatal.

Nonetheless, Zoro looked quite coherent. He more or less carried himself to the nearest room, laying down on the cot with a little help. One eye was shut tightly, already swelling from the painful impact his head had suffered, the other was squinting, but focusing on me. That was very good, so I encouraged the young man to continue doing so while I checked over his vitals. All his readings were a little high, no wonder with all the adrenalin and pain he was in, so I quickly administered some painkillers as soon as I had an IV port fixed to the back of his hand.

“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked him in a calm voice, watching over the nurses that tried to get the nasty headwound to stop bleeding. “Hit the glass table… at home, fell again.” He muttered, his voice was weak and raspy, but his description fit the injury. The sharp edge of a glass table was most certainly capable of leaving a wound like that. What really shocked me though was the fact that Zoro had shown up on his own. “At home? You came all the way here by yourself?!” I felt how he tried to nod but I carefully held his head down. “Don’t try to move, just stay down, alright?”

“Where’s Daz? He didn’t bring you? Next time if something like this happens please call, the clinic will come and get you, don’t walk here like this.” I told him in a commanding tone when I received no answer.

Meanwhile the bleeding was slowing considerably, thank god, so the other nurse went to help him out of the Sweatshirt Zoro was currently wearing. It was obvious that the glass table shattered on impact, his right arm was cut up in several places, getting caught in the shards. His shirt was next, it was a simple blue one with short sleeves, something you saw every day, but he was insistent that he liked the shirt, he didn’t want it to be cut off.

In the end we only got away with it because the man was simply too weak to do much to stop us. Underneath the shirt his abdomen was black and blue, a sight that made even the nurses grasp painfully. I cringed a little, but sadly this fit right in with my suspicions. When I asked him about it, he was stuttering something that was obviously a lie, especially with how bad he did not want us to see this in the first place.

“It’s nothing really, just training and stuff, happens you know?” He sounded bitter, defensive, biting his lower lip right after. His hands were shaking badly, so I inserted a little more of the painkillers into the IV line.

“That’s alright. We’ll get you into a CT scan anyway to check your head, if you’re hurt badly anywhere else, we’d see it there as well. Did you lose consciousness at any point after your fall?” I asked gently, indulging his lies for the time being. “Yeah, a little I think. S difficult to remember.” He answered honestly, gesturing with his unhurt arm towards his split open head.

That answer was as good as I was going to get, there was no one else to ask about how long Zoro had possibly been unconscious for, so I simply nodded gathering my hair in a high ponytail while doing so. Only a few minutes later his injuries were stable enough for the scan.

Despite his abdomen looking absolutely horrible on the outside his organs were unhurt, but more concerning was his headwound. Roronoa Zoro really was a man blessed by the gods of luck. His skull was fine, not even a hairline fracture to be seen, there was no internal bleeding and the swelling of his brain was in a normal range. As long as it would not go up, he would be completely fine. It was rather complicated to explain this to someone who was barely coherent anymore though. The painkillers made the young man extremely drowsy, but that was only good, because I still had to stitch him up.

The nurses got to work on his arm first while I dedicated myself to that cut up skull and it took a lot of stitches, but in the end, it looked rather neat, the scars would barely be visibly, especially compared to that big one on his chest.

By the time his wounds were bandaged the man was practically asleep, so getting him out of his pants and into a hospital gown was a lot easier than the drama the shirt had caused. There were no further injuries except for a few small flecks of blue that could realistically be anything, so I got him arranged in a private room.

And now I had to call Daz Bones. Or at least I should have, as the man was listed as his emergency contact, but that was most definitely not what I wanted to do. I called a friend of mine instead. His name was Brook, he was a famous singer once and lived right around the corner, in the same house as the couple in question. And at the moment he was my only real hope in helping Zoro out of this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I promised to update fast? Then I got lost in watching 155 episodes of Jojo's instead


	4. Fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little short and not a lot of plot after such a long time, but at least it's something? Welp, cute Chopper and the ASL brothers are here for the rescue, not that they can do much, but it's the intentions that count, right??

I had known Zoro for a while now. He was a patient of my uncle. Law had really long hours at the clinic, so from time to time he would take me with him, at least when he worked in his office.

He was mostly a surgeon, I knew that and always thought it was pretty neat. Human anatomy was so interesting in the few scientific books he actually let me read!

And honestly, he was a little socially awkward even on his best days, so direct contact with patients was never his forte, but he could practice as a physician well enough if he needed to.

And with Zoro he apparently felt like he needed to. Neither Law nor I were interested in sport, like at all, but the news of this grievous injury travelled like bushfire even if you actively tried not to hear about it.

Law was the first one to treat it and literally saved the young swordsman’s life. He felt very responsible for his recovery after that even though he was generally really good at keeping attachments from happening. It was essential in his line of work he always told me.  
But Zoro’s recovery would be difficult, so he took it into his own hands and helped him back to his best possible form.

He often told me about this particular patient because he was impressed how well he handled his pain, he was very focused on recovery and sports, a good role model should ever have a big dream like that. Nothing could stop you from reaching your goals if you only work hard enough.

The first time I met the green haired man was kind of an accident. A school excursion was cancelled because of bad weather so Law had to bring me to work. Usually I could’ve stayed with a nice neighbour of ours, an elderly lady who did not like to be called old at all, but it was kind of short notice, so the office it was.

It had never been a problem before as Law did usually not have conscious patients, I would be able to see, but Zoro had a physical therapy appointment, which was very important I was told.

Even the best operation was not enough if a patient was unwilling to work on their own recovery afterwards. Doctors and patients always had to work together. Someday I wanted to be a doctor as well, so Law lectured me on things he thought were the most important to the job on occasions like this.

Law was a little nervous about introducing me, well he would never admit it, but he was. I was always quiet in the office, so my uncle could work, but on that day, I tried to be on my best behaviour because of it. I had homework to do anyways.

The first thing I noticed about Zoro was that the man was late. Law didn’t seem bothered by this at all, just doing some paperwork in the meantime. Then the man suddenly burst through the door, looking flushed and a little out of breath. I put my book down, a little worried about Law’s patient.

“I’m sorry, got lost in the halls again, this goddamned hospital is just too fucking big!” He exclaimed and Law began to laugh. Actually laugh! Law wasn’t a very happy person most of the time, his smiles were usually reserved for myself or his closest friends, so hearing him laugh was very special for me. The relationship between those two was already much more than of a professional nature.

“No worries.” Law answered dismissively after his short outburst and got up to take his patients coat for him.  
“I am very sorry as well, but we’ll have an audience today. Chopper is my adoptive son, because his school cancelled some things today he’ll be here, but he’s very quiet, you won’t even notice him, I promise.”

Zoro stared at me for a second, probably not having noticed me sitting around before his doctor mentioned my presence and then he began to grin.

“You never mentioned having a child! And not that he was so cute either!” Zoro was smiling wide while saying this, animatedly waving in my direction.

It was definitely not what I had expected and from the looks of my uncle, neither had he. Zoro looked really intimidating, he was tall and well-muscled, from beneath his gym tank top still peaked layers of bandages, on top of all that he had a very serious face, steely eyes that spoke of deep determination.

I had seen his face torn in agony in the news, and his stance while fighting, but that goofy happy face was definitely an entirely new impression. I couldn’t help looking a little perplexed while waving back.

“Well because he’s technically my nephew and it just really hadn’t come up.” Meanwhile Law was fumbling for an answer and Zoro snickered like a hyena from a Disney movie or something.

“Doesn’t matter. Can we get started? Does he want to watch?” He said after he had calmed down and invited me over with a wave of his hand.  
Watching over his therapy was much more interesting than maths anyways, he even let me help putting pressure on his back while stretching and all.

My conclusion of the day was that Zoro was pretty great. He was kind of stupid sometimes, but in a fun way, and he let me help and made Law laugh. It looked like he liked me well enough, so Law began to make it a regular thing, taking me to the office on days Zoro would come.

It was pretty cool to watch him recover in real time, and for a while I actually started to watch his matches after he was fighting again. But he got injured a second time and it really wasn’t pretty. I remembered why I didn’t like fighting in the first place, people always got hurt…

Law seemed sad, but as a doctor it was the right thing to do. Telling his friend to end his career.

Zoro stopped smiling and joking around as much after that. We didn’t get to see each other as much anymore either. He actually looked worse than when I had first met him.

Then he stopped coming at all. Law told me he had moved out from his home and had changed to a different doctor because of this, but both him and I didn’t really believe in his words. Zoro had been our friend, a simple move wouldn’t make him stop seeing us, right?

Law wasn’t telling me everything he knew and it really unsettled me, but after learning his reason for his silence I could understand.

Even though I didn’t like fighting my uncle had gotten me into a dojo. It was Zoro’s dojo. Zoro’s other friends thought that his boyfriend was hurting him and Law thought they were right. He had seen some bruises and knew his patient was acting very strange recently.

He sat me down and had a long talk with me about abuse and consent and how friends of a victim could help, how I could help. I took my job very serious from then on, always going to the dojo and keeping an eye on Zoro, telling Law about all the things I noticed.

Zoro definitely knew what we were trying to do, but he still accepted me as his student. He liked me, well he liked children in general I learned, he was nice and smiled and made jokes at the dojo, and still he managed to be a serious teacher.

But he looked sad while doing so, and after meeting his boyfriend I perfectly understood why.

He was very scary, much bigger even than Zoro was, and mean. His voice was loud and commanding, he didn’t care at all that he was interrupting Zoro’s lessons more than once because of something trivial. He was embarrassing him in front of his students, but Daz ignored those comments from Zoro as if nothing he said mattered at all.

One time he even gripped his arm and pulled him out of his lesson and to his office. The man screamed at him, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. All I could get was that Zoro wasn’t even arguing back at him, like how fights were supposed to go. It was really scary.

Luffy was holding my hand because of how scared I was. Luffy was another one of Zoro’s students. Not a very good one at that, but his older brothers Ace and Sabo definitely were. Luffy and I liked it a lot better to play games and tell stories.

While my newest friend was trying to comfort me, his brothers were arguing silently next to us. Ace wanted to go and help Zoro, because at this point every single one of us had realized that his boyfriend was a mean bully. Whatever he was screaming about probably wasn’t even our sensei’s fault.

Sabo knew that that was a pretty fucking stupid idea, his own words, because Daz was around triple their hight and probably ten times their weight in muscle. They should wait it out and tell an adult about it. Apparently their grandpa was a retired cop or something.

“My dad knows. He was his doctor before you know, moving in with that man.” I whispered softly and the teens turned back to us.

“And he can’t do anything about it?” Ace asked furiously and I shook my head sadly. “No, Zoro needs to tell someone on his own. If Law or his friends tell the police no one will believe them, because Zoro’s probably going to lie and protect his boyfriend.” I answered carefully, nervously glancing in the direction of the office, trying to remember what Law had told me about abuse. The shouting was still going.

“Why would he do that?” Sabo said, genuinely confused and Luffy answered for me, to everybody’s surprise, with something really intelligent. “Because he loves him, right? He wants to protect Daz. He isn’t arguing with him at all, they’re not fighting, Zoro thinks whatever his boyfriend says is true.” For someone who was generally not known as the brightest light, Luffy could be oddly perceptive.

I had to swallow hard after that statement because of how painfully true it rang. “I’m going to tell Law, he will try talking to him again…” I whispered with a nod and the other three silently joined in on my task.

Shortly after there was a loud crash and the sound of a door slamming, but at least the screaming had stopped. A few minutes later Zoro appeared back in the room and tried to continue his lesson. He was a little shaky and there were definitely tears in his eyes, but he was too stubborn to let them or his façade fall for even a second, keeping his composure even under pressure.

Incidents like this one kept happening from time to time but it never stopped being so scary. The three brothers were always furious, I feared that if things didn’t change soon, they would simply barge into whatever argument the couple had to fight that man.

Then Zoro’s other friends came to visit and started asking questions the swordsman did not like at all. The brothers and them started talking in the end, introducing them to their grandpa in case of emergency.

They were good people. It was very nice to know that Zoro had people that worried about him and wanted to take care of him other than Law, me and a bunch of rowdy children. If Zoro would only understand that…


	5. Fateful Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: This chapter could be a little confusing, but it goes Brook's POV/Sanji's POV/Brook's POV/Sanji's POV... and so on! I hope it's clear for everyone and you enjoy reading it :3

It was an afternoon like every other. The weather was nice, so I left my windows open, luckily none of my neighbours minded that I did, it seemed like most of them liked my music well enough to hear me play in the background of their days.

I had a nice cup of tea ready and some notes on the side, but I didn’t really need them. I knew the strings of my violin better than the back of my own hand, playing whatever came to mind was always easy for me.

Most of them were joyous songs, I was in a terribly good mood after my shopping trip this morning, a new fancy chain adorning my neck.

Yes, maybe I liked shopping a little too much for a man my age, but it didn’t really matter, there was no one there to leave my money to, so I better spend it while I was still alive. God knows that all those people in retail could need a nice tip every now and then!

And Franky could always need donations whenever I felt like the money on my accounts got out of hand. Prosthetics were very expensive, a lot of people who really needed them couldn’t actually pay those things, so I would help out from time to time.

I was still living comfortably, no matter how much I spent after all. Being one of the most famous musicians in our land for fifty plus years had it’s perks. And as I was getting old the media wasn’t as interested anymore, those twenty something year old stars were much more popular, which was very nice in my opinion.

Being the centre of attention was pretty neat, or I wouldn’t have chosen this career of course, but it could be tiring after a while. Getting old wasn’t all bad. Well as long as my afro wouldn’t fall off at least, ha!

A call interrupted my song. I was quick to pick it up, because that was definitely the number of Robin’s clinic. She never called from work, so whatever it was she wanted to talk about, it had to be of a serious nature.

\-----

Ever since first visiting Zoro’s dojo I spent most of my time with research.  
I scanned the news, hell, even celebrity gossip trash, for every little useful information I could get. It was mostly things about Daz. He liked to indulge in the lifestyle of the rich and glamours.

There were a lot of photos of the man in the net. Apparently he liked going to parties, charming his way into the lives of people I would usually deem out of his class. He was a flirty bastard, I would probably die of jealousy if I was in a relationship with him, but I knew that was never Zoro’s thing.

He was also filthy rich, his social media accounts full of expensive brand clothes and fancy watches. He basked in attention, modeling and sitting in talk shows as if he belonged on a pedestal ever since retiring from boxing.

There were very few photos of Daz and Zoro together though. Next to that man my friend looked like a shut in. He had never been a fan of the media, or well, of people in general. It took him a long time to learn about trust, it was why he only ever had few friends. I couldn’t imagine him having fun on parties of this scale.

Accordingly there were few pictures, he probably didn’t even go to most of these events and even if he did, he was trying not to get his picture taken. Yes, that would be very much like him.

Some of the articles about their relationship were downright rude, questioning if it could even work out because of the swordsman’s boring and brutish personality.  
It made me fucking angry, if anyone was a brute it was definitely Daz!!

I also tried to figure out their address, which was definitely the hardest point because the media wasn’t allowed to leak it and Zoro did not want to tell me for some reason or other.  
After an “incident” at the dojo I met up with Garp though, and it probably wasn’t legal to use the police’s resources like this, but the man agreed to drastic measures after hearing about it from his three grandsons.

\-----

I greeted Robin with a fond smile on my lips nonetheless, sitting down on my kitchen counter, taking a sip of my tea. “Ah hello dear doctor-san, what got me the honour of you calling at this time of the day?”

“Hello Brook, it’s nice to hear you too.” She answered promptly, and although she was sounding cheerful superficially, I could immediately tell that something was worrying her.

“I’m calling about a patient of mine actually. You know your neighbours quite well, don’t you?” Robin continued and I felt a bout of confusion hit me. I was by no means a doctor, why would she need my opinion on someone’s health?

“Ahh, yes, at least of those who are not too closed off.” I answered dutifully with a nod, even though she would be unable to see it. 

The woman was always very perceptive and easily picked up on my confusion it seemed. “Don’t worry, it’s not a medical issue I want to ask you about. I wanted to know if you have met Daz Bones? He lives one floor up from you, I think.”

\-----

It was unsettling to get a call from Law, because Law didn’t like calls all that much, he preferred to text, probably because he could do it blind while making coffee at work or something. So, if Law called it was always serious, on top of that it was already late evening, a time where he usually cooked dinner for Chopper or looked over the boy’s homework.

“Something big happened at the dojo today Sanji-san.” He said instead of a greeting, getting directly to the point of the call. There was simply no time for pleasantries on a day like this.

“Is he hurt?! Should I come?” I asked, instantly alarmed, already getting up from the couch, ready to get dressed, but Law’s voice had a calming, although resigned tone while answering.

“Not yet. Bones interrupted his lesson again. Chopper said he tried to hit him, but he easily blocked and calmed the man with a few easy words, sending him away. He never tried that in front of the kids before.”  
The doctor explained and I nodded, already worried. This was going to have a repercussion, it would definitely happen again, only somewhere nobody would see… At least the kids didn’t have to watch, Zoro probably knew first-hand how traumatizing that could be.

“Did the other kids see it that way as well?” I asked, chewing on my bottom lip to distract myself from the pit of worry I felt.  
“Yes, Ace, Sabo and Luffy already confirmed his statement. I have been talking to their grandfather about the situation at hand actually.” “You mean that Garp dude?”

“Yes, Garp-san is a retired police officer, he’s very familiar with domestic violence cases, much more than me honestly. He thought it would be best if we all had a small get together to talk this through again. He will also contact some of his still working colleagues for some information about Bones. You were investigating his address anyways if I remembered correctly?”

\-----

I immediately lost the joy of the previous day at that and sat my cup down softly, a grim expression taking over my face. “Yes, I have met him, what about it?” I may have sounded a little sour while saying this, but Robin did not react badly to this, instead I could practically hear the grin in her voice. That woman could be a goddamn devil if she wanted to!

“Ah, so you agree that he’s a total asshole?” Robin answered and I couldn’t stop myself from groaning in agreement. “He’s as slippery as an eel, leaving behind a thick trail of slime wherever he goes. I can’t stand the man! So, what’s up with that?” I asked of her.

Robin sighed softly on the other end of the line before continuing. “He’s been living with his boyfriend for a while now, right? A tall man, green hair, tan, muscular, three earrings. His name is Zoro, he’s here right now.”

“Oh dear, did something happen?! Is he alright?! Ah no, he’s probably not alright if he’s with you…” I mumbled hastily, getting off my counter and pacing the kitchen instead.

“So you do know him?” She concluded from my reaction and I nodded again, biting down on my lips.  
“Yes, he’s a sweetheart. I know he looks a little gruff, but he always brings the mail up to my door and asks if he can do anything for me when he sees me around. He even brings my favourite pie along when he goes shopping! He’s probably worried because I’m old, but you know, it’s still sweet of him, even though I try to tell him I’m perfectly healthy whenever we meet in the hall.”

I could hear the doctor on the line chuckle softly at that, she probably hadn’t known these things about her patient, but her worry was clear as day, she was invested in whatever Zoro was involved in. And I already had a feeling that I was as well…

“What’s wrong with him? How is he?” I asked again, with more urgency after there had been silence for a while and Robin made a thoughtful sound. Officially she probably wasn’t allowed to tell me, I knew that, but as friends…

“You weren’t home this morning? It was probably pretty loud because he fell and hit a glass table, it shattered on impact. The poor boy hit his head hard and is cut to hell, but he was lucky, nothing too serious.” She answered thoroughly. I could hear her typing away on a keyboard in the background, probably already filing a report about the incident.

“No, I was out.” I stammered, still trying to process what I just heard my friend say. “Oh my, that sounds terrible.” I whispered, kind of regretting that I wasn’t there. Not that I could have done much to help out, but anyways…

“Ahh too bad, I thought maybe you heard something.” It hit me like a brick to the face, she was implying this somehow involved Daz. I grit my teeth, because fuck, why hadn’t I thought about this before?! Since living here Zoro always walked around with some kind of bruise or bandage, but I had just assumed he was clumsy as hell!

“You mean they fought again?” I asked her, the anger in my voice obvious even to myself.

“Again? No, Zoro just said he fell, but you think they fight often?” She inquired and I had to swallow hard. Now I was searching around the cabinets for something to drink, somewhere here just had to be a bottle of rum or something…

“Yes! Daz is a goddamned ass whenever he’s around Zoro, I don’t understand how he can live with him! I hear them fight very often. Well, it’s mostly Daz screaming in his partner’s face, but whatever.”

“Interesting.” She mumbled on the other end while I was finally filling a glass. This was definitely not a tea kind of conversation.  
“Zoro has been here with a number of injuries I have been thinking about.” The doctor continued softly and it was my turn to sigh.

“I have thought of this a lot as well, but I felt kind of prejudiced with just assuming that two men can’t have a healthy relationship… I mean, they’re both really strong sportsmen, the injuries could be from training, or maybe Zoro’s just clumsy. Fighting and screaming happens with every couple, right?”

I tried to explain myself, not to mention that Zoro blocked every single conversation I tried to have about Bones in the past. I had just thought it was because Daz didn’t like many people in the neighbourhood, that he didn’t want his boyfriend to talk about him with us, but in hindsight that was a pretty stupid assumption already.

“I even hear things crash and shatter from time to time. I just didn’t think it was Zoro that got hit.” I said, barely able to keep a sob out of my voice. “What do we do now?” I asked my friend carefully. I couldn’t stand violence, hell, I was still a hippie at heart!

“He’s still unconscious for now, but he’ll probably want to go home in the evening. Try to go up to them tomorrow? Offer some help while Zoro’s hurt and all that. Try to talk to him about Daz again when you’re alone, but don’t imply anything, don’t push him into a corner. Just offer your help in general.  
Sadly, I can’t say anything about it, I fear he’ll ghost me, he did it with his last doctor apparently. Or even worse, he won’t come here again even if he’s seriously hurt.  
Keep an ear on things, call the authorities if you feel like a fight got seriously out of hand up there, don’t endanger yourself, Daz is a brute.”

The conversation ended on a sombre note, but at least I felt like I could finally understand the man a little better. I would offer my help, no matter what.

\-----

“Daz barged into the front door and just walked into the training hall with his outside shoes. He’s really disrespectful like that, he has done it around nine times by now I think, but usually sensei doesn’t even say anything about it anymore. He just leaves the room with him so they can argue. Well, it’s more like Daz screaming at him and Zoro accepts whatever he has to say, but he trusts us to patiently wait it out by now.”

Sabo was the one speaking, the rest of us listened without interrupting after his grandfather had prompted him to tell the story in as much detail as he could remember. Ace und Luffy were much too hot headed for this, and Chopper looked frankly scared shitless, sitting in the lap of his foster father.

“That day he didn’t even pull him out of the room, he just straight up tried to punch him in front of us.” I could see Mihawk grit his teeth from across the table, Zoro’s father was trying with all his might to listen calmly while one of his students retold the events that had brought us together once again.

“But he’s like a swords master, he caught his hand midair and told him that he was teaching children a class about self-defense here, it’s not a place for this, that they could deal with whatever this was at home. After that his boyfriend looked like super perplexed, but left again without saying anything else.”

Nami literally faceplanted next to me. Zoro was so capable and everybody here knew it. He was strong in every aspect of the word and he just let himself be beat down by that man.

“And all of you agree on that?” Garp tried to check in with all four children present and received nods from around the table in my appartement. Next to him sat a much younger colleague, Shanks had fiery red hair and as fate had funny ways for all of us, he was a distant friend of Mihawk as well.

Currently he was furiously scribbling away, taking notes on all of our statements. Zoro might not be willing to say anything about his situation right now, but as soon as he was ready to, Shanks and Garp would have a case for him at hand.

Currently the children and Law were his most important witnesses, although Law said that it would be essential to get in contact with Zoro’s new doctor. She would know of all the injuries Daz had caused him while living together, and if she was any good at her job, she should at least be somewhat suspicious about it by now.

“And you also said he didn’t come to his lesson today?” I asked this time, an unlit cigarette dangling from my lips. I’d definitely love to stress smoke right about now, but I had at least some restraint around the kids.

“No, a friend of his instructed the kids, he cancelled the more serious lessons, claiming he was sick.” Law answered and Nami sprung up, anger painting her face while Usopp tried to calm her down again.

“Ahh, he’s such an idiot, he knows he could stop him, he did it in front of the kids, why doesn’t he stand up for himself?! He’s always like this!” She was swearing wildly, the most familiar with his backstory surrounding his blood father.

“Koshiro didn’t hit him, but he wasn’t a good father. Maybe I wasn’t either.” Mihawk sounded bitter, gripping the table’s edge so hard I was afraid he’d shatter it at one point. Shanks put a careful hand on his shoulder though. “Nah man, don’t think this was your fault, you know it’s not. It’s nobody’s fault really. Victims often don’t even realize…”

“Don’t call my son a victim! He would fucking hate that.” Mihawk grit out in a hateful voice I had never heard him use in my whole life.  
“Yes, he would hate that, so don’t call him that, but it’s still true. We need to treat this with as much delicacy as possible.” Law joined in again.

The evening left all of us drained, but at least we finally had some things written down. Just in case of course, Zoro was strong, nothing serious would happen for now, right?  
Well at least I had our friend’s address now, not in a fully legal way, but it wasn’t like Daz was playing by the rules either.

\-----

I kept my ears open for the rest of the day. Unsurprisingly there was no sound of either Zoro or Daz getting home. The latter would probably pick up his boyfriend in the evening and bring him here, it was still too early for that. But I was one edge since my conversation with my befriended doctor.

So when I hear loud pounding on the door one floor up I was shocked out of my lethargic stupor and sprinted upstairs. It obviously couldn’t be one of the men living there, but on a day like this I was just too high strung to not at least have a look at the intruder.

“Zoro?! Zoro, you asshole, open the goddamned door! You have ignored our calls for days now, we’ve all had enough! At least talk to Nami, she’s just worried about you! Zoro, are you even there?! Daz? Anyone??”

There was a blond man and he was screaming at the door he was still pounding, a cell phone clutched in his other hand. I briefly wondered how he even passed the clerk downstairs, but quickly forgot about it again.

This man was a friend of Zoro and he was very obviously concerned about something, so I quickly approached him. Maybe his friends knew what was going on? Maybe if Robin could talk to them, they would convince Zoro to speak up? He was such a lovely young man after all, wasting his life with someone like Daz, that would be very unfortunate for everyone involved, especially the swordsman’s friends, right?

“Ahh hello young man, I fear nobody’s home at the moment. Actually, your friend, Zoro, he’s in hospital right now, he had a little accident today.” I interrupted his ranting gently and bright blue eyes turned in my direction, shock clear in them.

I calmed him quickly, explaining the sparse information Robin had given me. The man introduced himself as Sanji and was rather peeved after learning that I was both a neighbour of his friend and that I knew his doctor on top of that.

Both of us agreed that it would be best to go to the clinic after meeting like this.


	6. State of mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter ate my brain for a whole week. It's fucking long and I just couldn't find a place to cut it, so there you go with nearly 10'000 words lol x'D
> 
> Trigger warnings!!! This chapter is Zoro's POV of the whole story up until now. Daz is a highly manipulative bastard in the entire story, but it's the most obvious here. He's actively separating Zoro from his friends and family and constantly putting him down, getting him into a mental state that enables the emotional and physical abuse against him. There is violence and very mean language thought the whole chapter. It's basically all hurt no comfort right now, but it felt the most realistic for me like that.  
> The next chapter will probably be the hight of things, expect more drama and trauma!

The injury, that nearly killed me was obviously one of the most excruciatingly painful experiences in my whole life, but in my mind at least even worse, was the fact that it was boring as hell.

At first all I felt was either pain or my head stuffed full of cotton, unable to think or move due to the drugs they pumped into my failing body. Honestly, I was a little scared. I didn’t really know where I was or what happened most of the time, or anything else for the matter. At one point I would have sworn I was able to smell the colour blue, that’s how out of it I was.

At the end of that phase, while I was still laying in intensive care at the hospital, guilt came to be part of the few daily emotions I was able to distinguish with my useless, high brain.

Mihawk and Perona were by my side as often as they could be and soon enough other familiar faces showed up as well. Nami and Sanji mostly, Usopp sometimes, hell, even Zeff visited from time to time and god knows that man has better stuff to do than come visit the son of his fucking neighbour, he runs a business!

All of them had that sad and exhausted look in their eyes, that spoke volumes about all the grief and fear I had put them through with this injury. They all tried to be tough and put on a brave face while visiting, but they failed miserably.

Well, except for Perona, my sister didn’t even try to hold back and bawled her eyes out on a regular basis, while sitting at my bedside. Not that my dad did much better, but at least he kept his façade up rather well, just how he always did. It was a piece of normalcy I desperately needed at the time.

I even felt guilty for Law, and he was a doctor, who was just doing his job while caring for me! But the man looked like he didn’t even know how sleep was spelled, and he was young, much younger than his colleagues, he should have a social life, right?  
Instead he was at the hospital for extra-long hours every single day while I was still in a rather critical condition. It was purely his merit I didn’t die on an operation table.

After I was finally transferred to a normal room and vaned off of the hardest painkillers, that left my mind as numb as my body, a new emotion joined the mix. Anger, and with it came it’s partner, despair.

I was fucking angry at how useless my body felt. I was angry at that asshole that put me in this position in the first place. I was angry that they felt the need to sit me down with a psychologist. I was angry that I was still in so much pain. Nothing was working the way I was used to anymore.

Not that I could really fault my body for refusing to work, it was cut down brutally. It bordered on a miracle that most of the organs still worked. After first seeing the damage without all the bandages I was actually a little shocked. I could finally remember some fractions of what had happened, and trying not to bleed out on national live TV wasn’t a very nice experience.

Could I ever fight again? Really, sports was all I was ever good at… I wasn’t very intelligent, unlike Nami, I wasn’t creative like Usopp either, and my people skills fucking suck even worse than my dad’s, not like Sanji at all, who could literally befriend people around the globe or impress with his cooking. I had no talent at my hands other than the sword, but that could only every be used in a destructive way.

What would I even do if I couldn’t fight anymore? Was there anything else for me to do?

I knew exactly that these thoughts weren’t helpful or even healthy, so I strictly kept them to myself and denied that the traumatic injury actually left a trauma while recovering. I denied it towards my friends and family, towards Law and the nosy nurses and especially towards that stupid psychologist.

The last goddamned thing I needed in my life was a shrink to tell me all the little things that are somehow wrong with me. I already knew that I worked different than most normal people, but that was just fine by me, the few ones I cared about all accepted that without question. After not really saying anything for three sessions we quit and I focused on my physical recovery.

It was hard, and it fucking hurt, but physical therapy and some changes to my diet did wonders. It looked like I would actually be able to recover, so I quit thinking these useless, hypothetical thoughts.

That’s when recovery started to get really boring. I was only receiving a bare minimum of painkillers but still couldn’t move around much other than for therapy. I was confined to the bed in the hospital. The room was nice, there was a TV, Perona brought me some books, I had my phone and everything.

But the lives of everyone else went back to normal. My sister, Nami and Usopp went to university, they had classes to attend and needed to study, not much time to hang around in hospital and do nothing. Sanji had work to do, as a cook he often started before visiting hours even began and got home after they ended. I didn’t see him much.

Dad came to visit frequently, but neither I nor him were very talkative. Even though we did genuinely love each other, we were physical people, if there wasn’t anything to do, both of us felt a little awkward sitting next to each other. So he came to help with therapy, which was great, but the rest of the day was still boring as hell that way.

Law was nice enough to spend his lunch, or well, depending on his shifts, dinner or even breakfast with me, but he was still at work most of the time we got to see each other. He had other patients and stuff to do, so most days I was lying down all alone.

I tried to do things, but reading or TV and stuff like that could never hold my attention for long, I just wasn’t the type for it, I guess.

So every occasion someone else came to see me was a highlight.  
I was never a fan of the press either, but as I had a lot of time on my hands, I actually agreed to do some interviews. There were some sports officials as well, that came to apologize for what had happened and wished me well, bringing stupid gifts and all that.

A few fellow swordfighters, I mostly knew them from competitions, came along. That was actually rather nice. It felt like they hadn’t given up on me yet.  
And then there was Daz.

I had met Daz Bones before, at the celebration of my first world championship title. He was a retired box champion, who did some functional wear collections for some fashion brands or whatever. I wasn’t all that into fashion, so I knew next to nothing about it, but it basically meant he had a lot of time on his hands as well and often used it to come here.

We talked a lot. Or well, Daz talked a lot, but it was better that way, I needed people to fill the silence I created. I liked to just listen better than to talk on most days.  
Other than that, we actually had a lot of things in common. Obviously both of us were really into sports and working out, it was literally the largest part of our lives. But Daz also liked to travel, he showed me some really cool pictures. I was always into foreign cultures, so I was hooked by his stories.

Both of us loved dogs apparently, they were loyal, strong and protective, but also really cute, cuddly and dorky. We spent a whole day gushing about different breeds, I think. And we were both into men. I felt a little like a stupid teenage girl talking about our exes, but in the end it was so much fun.

We started unofficially dating before I was even out of the hospital. I felt a lot better at home though, especially because I was finally allowed to move around freely. Sure, I still needed to be careful, but the pain was manageable if I only worked out a little.

I had missed Perona’s constant chatter without even noticing it beforehand, and my friends would visit more often again. Especially Sanji, who worked out a meal plan with the people from hospital. He and Mihawk helped with therapy as well, and I still had to see Law frequently.

Daz often took me out to have dinner, or go to the movies and other romantic stuff like that. He bought me expensive gifts and even took me abroad on a weekend, not to mention that he was great lover.

I could go back to sport. Honestly, I felt amazing, like the king of the fucking world. Sure, my friends complained about Daz from time to time, because he didn’t want to meet with the whole group and often planned stuff on days, I would usually reserve for them, but I didn’t really get what the big deal was.

Getting into a group of people you didn’t know well and that didn’t particularly like you from the very beginning was fucking hard and intimidating. I understood that he didn’t want to do that.

And then I received a call from the hospital. It was rather normal by now, I was expecting Law’s voice, instead a woman asked if I was Roronoa Zoro. I was confused but confirmed and then she said that my father was found dead this morning after a neighbour had informed the police about a commotion at the Dojo.

Koshiro killed himself, cutting himself open with one of his own swords.  
Since I was forced to leave the Dojo because child protective service put me into the orphanage over a decade ago, we didn’t have a lot of contact. At first, he wasn’t allowed to contact me, and after Mihawk had adopted me and given his permission he often just…

Well, my father didn’t really have an excuse why he barely ever contacted me except for his depression, or well, because he forgot…

But I knew how to deal with that and I had forgiven him a long time ago. I just couldn’t accuse a man who forgot to eat on a regular basis of being neglectful on purpose. After all I didn’t even live with him anymore and he had partially forgotten my existence while I was still sharing a flat with him, so it didn’t feel so bad anymore.

Actually, our whole family died on the day Kuina died and there was no denying it.

But hearing about the actual death of my father was still incredibly painful.  
I had tried everything to make him better after my older sister died. I tried to talk to him, but he often didn’t even hear me. I tried to make him proud, to take on Kuina’s place with taking her sword and training until my hands and knees were bloody. I tried taking on his responsibilities to take some of the weight off his shoulders, cleaning, shopping, cooking. But in the end, nothing worked. Nothing I ever did mattered. Not the money I sent him in the last few years, not the name I had built for myself in the sport both of us loved so dearly, not the cards I sent or my calls and visits. I could never fill the hole my sister left and because of that Koshiro killed himself.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. Should I be angry with him for always forgetting about me and leaving me behind? But I wasn’t angry at all. Somehow, I felt guilty. Like I hadn’t done enough for him, after all he was my father, and now he was dead…

I couldn’t say anything, I just put the phone down in it’s station, effectively ending the call. I couldn’t see, everything was blurry and out of shape. Then I noticed that my face was wet, I was crying. At that realization a sob clawed it’s way out of my throat. It hurt. Everything hurt, and I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore.

My whole body was shaking and out of control, sobbing and crying. Usually I would have felt embarrassed. I don’t have panic attacks or mental breakdowns like this, I just don’t. But in that moment, I didn’t feel anything really. I was empty except for a pit of dark sadness in my middle. Was this how papa felt when Kuina died? Was this how he felt while killing himself?

I knew that my friends were trying to talk to me, but nothing really registered. Instinctively I grabbed Wado. The white sword was the only thing that really connected me to my family. It was Kuina’s heirloom after all. Now I was grasping it like my life depended on it, probably scaring the shit out of anyone present after hearing that my father had gutted himself with a sword just like this the previous night.

Mihawk’s form filled my vision after a while. I could actually hear what he said because he was talking slow and calm in a way only he could, but his techniques just didn’t work. I couldn’t slow my breath, the tears wouldn’t stop.

Perona handed me my phone. I called Daz without thinking about it and didn’t really need to say anything. He heard my sobbing and promised he was coming over. He briefly asked if I was at home, the vague humming sound I could produce was enough for him to understand. He was there in record time, enveloping me in his arms before lifting me up and out of the room.

I felt so small in his arms like that, but also safe, like he would protect me, although there never really was a threat to begin with. He held me until I cried myself into exhaustion and drove us home afterwards.

When I woke up, I didn’t really know where I was, but Daz was there, so everything was fine for now. We had amazing sex. Honestly, I just didn’t want to think for a while, it was a great distraction, especially because he put me right back to sleep like that.

Only after waking for the second time I learned that I was in my boyfriend’s appartement. He sent me off to shower and ordered some fast food while I was cleaning myself up. I still felt real shitty, fries and fatty burgers were probably exactly what I needed right now. Afterwards we watched some cute dog videos. It was really sweet of him how he took care of me.

We spent the whole next week like that. It was really nice and I honestly felt a little better. Daz suggestion for me to live here permanently was a little sudden, but if it could always be like that… I agreed without thinking about it too much and Mihawk was fucking angry about that.

He was always a stoic and stubborn man, but he wasn’t one to lose his temper or get loud. After I told him about my plans, he did just that though and I couldn’t understand why. Couldn’t he just be happy that finally something good happened to me in the shitshow that was my life?! Did he even love me? I felt betrayed, even more so after my real father had gratefully offed himself after all the effort, I had put in…

My friends weren’t much better. They didn’t openly say anything against my partner or our living arrangements, but they were obviously kind of pissed when I didn’t show up to one of our little get togethers. They didn’t seem to understand that I wanted to spend more time with Daz. It stung. I just wanted them to get along, but it looked like that would be impossible.

At least the nationals were going great. I was the top candidate for the title according to the pros and the media. My friends actually still came to the important fights, so that was nice.

And then another shitty accident had to happen. Well at least this time my opponent was not actively trying to kill me, but it sure felt like I was dying while I was once again lying in an ambulance, my airways clogged with my own blood.

It wasn’t exactly surprising when Law sat everyone down after I had woken up again and told me to quit, but it still hurt. At least I didn’t have to ask myself anymore what I would even do after not being able to fight anymore.

After all I had Daz, we could spend more time together. And I had the Dojo. Koshiro didn’t have anybody else, so it was mine now, and I actually wanted to do something with it. It was kind of rundown after all these years, but I wanted to at least teach after not being active in sport anymore.

Everyone looked vaguely surprised when I easily agreed to retirement. It looked like they had expected me to argue. It was the first time in months Mihawk and I got along again and he hugged me, grateful for my reasonable decision.

As soon as I was well enough to leave the hospital again, I drowned myself in work. I cleaned out my father’s flat, a small space right above the Dojo first.

There wasn’t much, he never owned a lot of things and neglected everything he even had a vague interest in for years now. He didn’t have hobbies other than martial arts, which was also his job. He didn’t have friends or something like that and he got rid of every single memorial involving his wife or his daughter. There was one single picture of me on his nightstand. I was probably seven in it, it was a long time ago, so I trashed it.

It felt wrong to keep it. The only picture I owned was of me and my sister, the way it should be. Nothing else should remain after Koshiro had destroyed so many pictures.

The fridge was basically empty anyways, the clothes that looked useable I donated, the books and swords I cleaned and cared for. It was probably the first time in a whole decade someone did that.

I thought about renting the place out, but that felt... wrong. I had a lot of memories that were made there. A few of them were happy, but most of them were at best slightly unpleasant. Letting someone else live here would be plain weird.

Instead of thinking about it I started with the Dojo. Daz wasn’t too happy about my sudden business. Before I retired, everything I did was train. The rest of my time went towards my boyfriend basically ever since I moved into his place. Now I had other things to do and Daz certainly didn’t take it well.

If I spent the whole day in the Dojo, cleaning and sorting through the accounting of the last few years, he wouldn’t speak to me in the evening. He was angry with me when I went out with my friends, claiming that if I had no time for him, how could it be that I made time for them? Worst of all, he started getting jealous when I went to Law for therapy sessions.

We had a big argument over the last point actually. Daz accused me of cheating on him with my doctor of all people! I really liked Law, he was a nice guy and a good friend, but cheating was something that would never even cross my mind. I had few relationships, but I was always dedicated towards them.

I promised that I wouldn’t meet with Law outside of appointments or without the group around to tide him over, but he didn’t seem satisfied by my commitment. The opposite was true, he was ignoring me again.

I don’t have breakdowns. I don’t. But when I was all alone in the Dojo on the next day, scrubbing the dusty wooden floors, I couldn’t hold the tears in. I didn’t even really understand why I was crying in the first place, but in that moment, I felt so alone. I desperately wished my sister could be here now, but that was a fantasy a long time in the past.

In the evening I couldn’t take my partner’s angry silence anymore and asked what the fuck was wrong with him.  
“What is this even about?! Are you jealous that I have another interest in life than you? Goddamn it Daz, that Dojo is the place I grew up in! It was my father’s dream once! What should I do in your opinion, huh?! Leave it to rot like it isn’t my problem now? Why can’t you at least support me with this when you don’t even like my friends?”

The last statement finally seemed to get a rise out of him, because Daz snorted angrily at that, his nose wrinkling in disdain. “Your so-called friends are fucking assholes!”  
I felt red hot anger at that, getting chest to chest with the taller man. “They’re not, don’t say that! You didn’t even try to get to know them!”

“Ohh, now it’s my fault they don’t like me?! They probably don’t even fucking like YOU!” He accused and I couldn’t help but feel a little shocked at that. “All Law want’s is to fuck you. That longnosed kid? He’s scared shitless around you! He’s just the redhead’s friend anyways, and she isn’t much better. They’re at university, why would they even like a dumb fuck like you?! And the cook’s the worst. He’s a homophobe and you don’t even notice the way he laughs about you.”

I felt ready to explode. Sanji was many things, and probably a little bit of an asshole from time to time, but he was not that bigoted! He didn’t… He liked me after all, right? And he knew I was… No, I shouldn’t even give an idiotic statement like that a single thought, instead I grabbed Daz’s collar. I just wanted to get him down a little so we were eye to eye while I told him that my friends were not like that, that they were great people.

Even though we were arguing, I always felt safe around Daz. My guard was lowered all the way. I didn’t expect him to take a swing at me, but that was exactly what he did. The reflex to protect myself didn’t kick in, his fist hit my face so hard that I couldn’t keep my balance and tumbled to the floor.

For a second everything was silent. I held my throbbing cheek in one hand and rightened myself with the other, staring at the floor, that was suddenly much closer than I remembered, in shock.

Then Daz was kneeling down in front of me, carefully holding my face between his hands and apologizing, making promises that it would never happen again, asking if I was okay. All I could do was nod dumbfoundedly.  
I didn’t think much about it. Accidents happen. It was just a fight.

Fights were a pretty regular thing after that though. I still spent a large chunk of time in the Dojo after all. Daz accepted that I wanted to open it again, but he was still a little pissed whenever I spent too much time away from home.

I probably got my friends angry as well, but as a compromise with my boyfriend I cut down their time little by little hoping that they wouldn’t even notice my frequent absence.

At least I could finally open the school again. Everything was clean and in order. I bought new equipment where it was needed and the finances were cleared. Most of the things were affordable. I wasn’t exactly rich, but there wasn’t much I needed, and the tournaments I had won in the past had given me a financial freedom I couldn’t even have dreamed of as a kid.

There were some younger pro’s that were interested in training with me. That would probably be enough money to keep the Dojo running smoothly, but I also planned some courses for adults and children. Honestly, training with kids was kind of a dream come true.

I was totally fine with the concept of never having kids myself. I knew I was gay pretty early on, I never expected to have children. But I still liked them. In the Dojo they reminded me of the happy childhood memories I actually have. 

I remembered how much fun it was to have a rivalry with my sister and honestly, everyone else who felt up to the challenge. About how many good things I learned with a sword in my hand. I wanted to give this feeling to other children as well.

Daz couldn’t keep his promise. With every week that passed our arguments turned more… forceful. I didn’t want to call it violence, after all Daz wasn’t really trying to hurt me, but he was just so big and naturally strong. But I wasn’t weak either, so it couldn’t be on purpose, things just tended to get out of hand more often than not.

Usually it was just a little shove. I mostly caught myself before I could fall or hit the furniture or something like that. Or he would grab me, his large hands easily spanning my biceps. The worst bruise he left on my shoulder, his grip felt like he could have broken my clavicle, but it hurt much worse when he held my neck that one time. 

I got used to the bruises. They weren’t any different than the other small injuries I received while training. There was no reason to be scared around Daz.

But Law seemed to notice the large number of discolorations soon littering my arms. I tried to tell him that they were from the Dojo, but he was sceptical. The last thing I needed was another person not believing what I told them, Daz already did that often enough in my opinion.

When we had another fight about the surgeon, that took care of my recovery, I finally agreed to my boyfriend’s demands and cancelled the appointments with him. Whatever, there was a nice private clinic nearby anyways, no reason to go to a public hospital anymore.

After a while I couldn’t find a reason anymore to even argue with him. It wasn’t like Daz was really listening to what I was saying. I felt like I was wasting everybody’s time while opening my mouth.

But Daz certainly had a talent with finding things to argue about. He got angry when I didn’t keep up with the chores, which included most things to do in the flat. Mostly cleaning and cooking while Daz did the shopping. And even when I did everything he wanted, he got angry about the way I did it. Apparently I was kind of a slop. I had never really noticed before, but I had been living with my adoptive father, it wasn’t like I had to do a lot of things in his home. 

I wasn’t all that good at cooking either. Neither Koshiro nor Mihawk had been particularly good teachers when it came to that, so I felt a little out of my league with doing it, but Daz always seemed too busy for it. I felt guilty for ruining the food, Sanji would probably kick me into next week whenever a meal turned out so bad my boyfriend had to trash it. I could never keep up with his standards.

Daz also loved parties. I didn’t. He always got super pissed when I didn’t want to go with him, but he always got jealous whenever I tagged along. It was kind of a dilemma. He didn’t like it at all when I called him out on it.

It was the first time he really lost his temper with me. His kick was much harder than a teenage Sanji from our fights years ago could have managed and knocked the air out of me. I instinctively got my arms up, ready to fight while he was closing in again, his arm raised for a strike. But I couldn’t.

I just couldn’t hurt this man. Daz was kind of right… Usually it was me that fucked up. His jealousy only meant he loved me, right? And it was nice that he wanted me to be by his side while he went to visit his friends and had some fun at their parties.  
I was getting paranoid. I didn’t feel like myself while Daz hit me. It was more like some weird out of body experience, the pain barely even registering.

On the next day my torso was black and blue. I felt too tired to get up. I had slept on the couch after Daz had stormed off, still cursing angrily.

In the morning Daz came out of the bedroom, already apologizing profusely and gently kissed me as he got close enough. His touch was full of care while he picked me up and carried me to bed like I weighed barely anything. He tucked me in and handed me some painkillers, telling me to sleep it off.

When I woke up there was a fancy case on the nightstand. Inside rested the pair of yellow tinted sunglasses I had been interested in the last time Daz had taken me to an expensive brand store while shopping. He also had a plate of sushi ready when I came to the living room. It was nice to spend the day resting by his side.

This time I didn’t believe him when he told me that it wouldn’t happen again.

He didn’t like it at all when I told him that Chopper was my student. Well, he didn’t understand who Chopper was at first, so it didn’t look like a problem to me, but at one point he made the connection between him and Law and lost his fucking mind about it.

“That guy is a fucking stalker, throw that kid out!” He demanded and I couldn’t help the annoyed sound I produced. “I know you don’t like Law, but I swear to god, I don’t even talk to him. Chopper’s a good kid, I can’t just throw him out without a reason, it would be bad for the Dojo’s image.” I protested even though I had a bad feeling about it already.

“I don’t want him around you, do you fucking understand?!” Daz’s grip around my arm was crushing. It hurt, there was already a deep set of bruises around my wrist from a few days ago.

“But..” I could barely even get started before an open palm slapped my face. It stung, but barely fazed me at this point, I just turned my head back to it’s original position, staring up into my boyfriend’s face. He probably saw a defiance in my eyes I didn’t even feel, because that’s when he really started to get loud.

“Okay, fine, have it your way, but don’t come crying to me when the stalker won’t leave you alone anymore!” He shoved me with more power than expected at that and I couldn’t catch myself this time.

The kitchen was not a good place to argue I learned, covered in hard tiles and sharp furniture.  
I landed on the ground hard and there was a loud snapping sound, followed by intense pain. I nearly chocked on the scream, that I just couldn’t hold back, protectively curling around the arm that was definitely broken. It was a sharp, stinging and a throbbing pain at the same time, I could feel the blood rush, my fingers tingling uncomfortably while the swelling started.

I could hear Daz cursing above me. “You’re too dumb for your own good.” He swore at me, but at the moment I couldn’t be bothered by it, the adrenalin kicking in.

After a while he probably calmed down enough to notice that I wasn’t getting up on my own. He already wore that guilty and loving expression while kneeling down next to me.  
“Honey, what’s up? Are you hurt?” He asked as if he didn’t realize that he was the one that hurt me in the first place.

He helped me to sit, my legs felt like jelly, but after a few minutes I got up. I took a deep breath, forced myself to calm down. It was just a broken arm, nothing serious. “I’m gonna take a quick trip to the clinic, I think. Probably broken.” I told him, my tone even. He nodded, offered to drive me.

While I wore the cast Daz took over all my chores without complaint, he even drove me to the Dojo, so I could work in the office and help the other two instructors I had hired. He was really gentle, he didn’t go to any parties or appointments abroad either. He was always around, taking care of me, just like he did when I first moved in after my father had died.

For a while everything was fine. Then my arm was healed and things quickly went back to normal. Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have told him that my friends visited the Dojo while I was giving a lesson.

But I kind of could understand their point for once. I hadn’t seen anyone of them since I didn’t want to worry them with the cast and everything, only talking to Nami every once in a while, over the phone.

Daz didn’t really get angry, he looked disappointed instead. “Ah, you don’t get it?” He asked sarcastically at my confusion. I felt dumb when he talked to me like that, but well, he was right, I didn’t understand what was wrong with that, so I simply shrugged.

“They don’t care about you, isn’t it obvious?” I frowned at that, feeling defensive, but also unsure. It had been weeks since Sanji last tried to text me…  
“Nami’s probably after your money, she’s a greedy bitch. And the cook? He’s not better than Law, only that he wants to stick his dick in the redhead, following her around all the time like a dog. He probably thinks you’re disgusting.”

He stated these things like they were the most logical things in the world and I wanted to protest. I really wanted to tell him he was wrong but.. I still owed Nami some money. Not much, just from times when I forgot to bring my wallet and she payed for food and drinks and stuff like that. But she was very insistent about dept and interest.

And Sanji was certainly fawning around Nami while he could barely even look me in the eye at the Dojo. Had I really been wrong about him all these years? Did he actually hate me for being gay…?

I swallowed thickly. I could feel tears gathering in my eyes, but crying about something like this would be utterly pathetic, so I just shook my head a little, my eyes searching the floor, as if I would find the answers I desperately needed there.

“You should stop talking to them. They’re only going to hurt you.” I couldn’t stop myself from nodding along.

I stopped responding to Nami’s texts after that. Dad tried to call me a few times, but I didn’t have the heart to talk to him right now. Perona was worried, I tried to reassure her. Everything was fine, I was just too busy to meet right now. Honestly, I didn’t want to see any of them at the moment. I ignored Law’s attempts to get me to talk in the Dojo. I had made a promise to Daz and I was intent about keeping it.

I felt a little lonely in the apartment. My boyfriend was on some photoshoot gig abroad, it would take around two weeks he told me. I knew there was an animal shelter somewhere around here. I couldn’t help myself. I just really wanted some company.

Before I knew it, I brought a small dog back with me. He was some indistinguishable mix, his short fur jet-black. I named him Shusui, after a famous blade. He was very nice company for the week I had him.

And then Daz got back home. He was furious, that I had brought a dog into his apartment without even asking. Shusui was very well behaved, he was clean and didn’t scratch or chew furniture. He was an old dog anyways, calm and didn’t need all that much attention outside of long walks, he wasn’t large either. It wasn’t a problem to bring animals into the house, several other tenants owned pets.

But Daz wasn’t in the mood to listen to any of my shit. I tried to tell him I was sorry, that I should have asked first, that I was lonely and had missed him while he was away.

He complained about the hair, asking exasperatedly if had let the mutt on our bed. I couldn’t lie to his face, so I confessed, yes that was exactly what I did, I just hadn’t expected there to be a problem. We both liked dogs, right?

Daz didn’t dignify my dumbfounded question with an answer. At this point I expected the swing he took at me, but I didn’t have it in me to dodge. I felt like an utter idiot. A disappointment. There really was nothing I could get right.. The pain blossoming in my chest is probably what I deserved all along.

He landed a few good hits, that would have downed a lesser man, but I just grit my teeth in pain, feeling ribs shift around with my breathing. Yes, definitely broken, but I had already expected that to happen at one point. The large scars parted my muscles and bones like a deep valley, those parts were weak. It’s why I quit sports after all.

Daz just wasn’t very in control of his strength when I got him angry like that. My weak parts breaking again wasn’t so bad.

I was just sad about losing Shusui. After my boyfriend calmed down from his rage, he looked at the small dog cowering in the corner of the room and pointed in his direction. “We’ll get rid of that thing right now. Tell me where you got it, then I’ll drive you to the clinic.”

Although I was pretty in control of my pain, I was kind of scared. I knew what a collapsed lung felt like and nearly died of suffocation in the past. My breathing sounded like that of an old dying man, rasping and fast, the clinic sounded good, especially because the adrenalin was fading fast at this point. The pain would kick in soon.

I coaxed Shusui out of his corner and got him to the car. Daz put him in the back, banning him from sitting in my lap. I felt so sorry for the animal, he probably didn’t understand what was going on, having to go back to the shelter after just getting comfortable at the apartment.

Daz brought him back inside, leaving me to sit in the car. I really wanted to tell the staff how sorry I was, but it was probably better like that.  
When he sat back down behind the wheel, I couldn’t stop myself from opening my mouth and asking the question that burned on my tongue since Daz got back from his trip and found out about my little companion.

“So you don’t even like dogs. Is there something else I should know about?” It was more of a statement then a question. It felt like a betrayal, after watching so many stupid dog videos together. It was nothing new that Daz didn’t keep his promises, but this was different. This was a lie.

“Don’t make decisions without me. You’re too dumb for stuff like that. And don’t bring any more stupid animals to my flat, the shit there’s expensive.”  
I silently grit my teeth. There weren’t any words in my vocabulary to describe how I felt anyways. It was better for everyone if I just didn’t say anything at all.

Robin was a good doctor, but I kind of wished she wasn’t. I wished that she would just stop asking so many questions already. She treated my ribs as best as she could. It wasn’t serious, painkillers and tape should do the job. She let me go without an answer about the broken ribs in the end.

Daz was once again very nice while I was healing, although a lot more absent then after the broken arm incident. The injuries weren’t really visible in my usual clothes, so I didn’t stop working this time. The Dojo doesn’t run itself after all.

Even though Robin insisted that my ribs were healing nicely I didn’t feel very well. I was exhausted all the time, I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath, I slept more than normal. She said it was probably caused by stress and gave me some exercises I could do at home instead of one on one physical therapy sessions. They worked surprisingly well and I thanked her dearly as soon as I felt up to it.

Daz was still a little pissed about the whole dog incident. I wanted to make it up to him, but that was just so difficult. He always bought himself the stuff he wanted to have, so I couldn’t make him any gifts. He liked eating out much more than anything I could cook for him and he always wanted to pick where we go. He’s a little picky like that.

All I could really offer him was sex. I didn’t feel like a very good partner, but Daz liked the idea anyways and he was much more calm and relaxed afterwards, so that was nice.  
Things were going great as long as I tried not to fuck up anything else.

Perona didn’t like phone calls very much. Well, neither did I, but at this point we hadn’t seen each other in months, she was always complaining about how much she missed me and that she wanted to at least hear my voice every once in a while. So when she called while we were eating dinner at home I couldn’t just not take it.

I missed her just as much as she did and I desperately wanted to hear her voice. At this point Perona was the only person I didn’t doubt. I felt like Daz was right about everyone else, about my friends and my adopted father, that they didn’t actually like me without any deeper motives behind their affection. It was different with my sister.

She was not Kuina, she was her opposite. She was younger and bubbly and oh so girly and definitely as gay as me although I hadn’t really met her girlfriend Bonney as of yet. They were barely even together by the time I left home after all. But I knew she loved me like we were real siblings, I could never doubt her.

I had to take the call. I was already apologizing to Daz, whispering that it was just my sister while bringing the phone to my ear. I wanted to get up and leave the table, but Daz wore a dead serious expression and made a short gesture with his hand even a dog could have understood, as if saying ‘Sit’ so that’s what I did, sitting back down even though I felt very uncomfortable in his presence right now.

“Oh my god Zoro, I haven’t heard from you in so long, I was getting worried!! I’m so glad you took the call, because you haven’t been talking to Nami or Dad either, really we’re all so worried at this point! Please tell me you’re doing fine. Is Daz still being an asshole?! I swear, he’s probably cheating on you, there are some photos from the last party he was at, Sanji found them online. You barely ever go with him, I bet he enjoys cheating on you so much, disgusting imbecile, I don’t know what the hell you see in him!”

It was rather typical for Perona to talk like she was the only person capable of speech, always too many words to get any answers or comments in between, like a dam was broken. I could barely get out a little raspy “Hi” before she got started this time, and with every word she spoke I felt the colour draining from my cheeks.

I was staring straight at Daz over the table, who could hear every single word she was saying, his expression quickly turning dark, but he didn’t say anything, he just let it play out, seemingly enjoying my desperation.

I wanted her to stop talking, my thumb was hovering over the button to end the call, but it would probably scare her if I just bailed. I was never the type to run from my problems as far as she knew.

“Daz wouldn’t cheat on me.” “But…” “I would be very happy if you would refrain from talking about him like that. He’s my boyfriend Perona. I love him.” I wasn’t sure if I was telling my sister or Daz at this point.

“You don’t sound well Zoro. Is he listening in on you? Do you feel safe where you are?” She was whispering the last part and I sighed, putting annoyance in my voice I didn’t feel at all. I wanted to be honest with her. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t know anymore how I felt around Daz. I just shook my head instead.

“How many times do I have to tell all of you?! Everything’s fine! It’s okay if you don’t like Daz, but then don’t expect him to like you either! Stop creating rumours like that, he doesn’t cheat on me. I just don’t want to see any of you guys right now. Tell Nami to stop calling already.”

I ended the call without saying goodbye. I wished I could cry, but I felt too empty to do anything at all. I could feel Daz’s large palm cradling the back of my neck gently as he leaned in close to my ear. “I’m so proud of you my love, for standing up for yourself like that.” He whispered softly.

From then on it wasn’t even necessarily anything I did that got Daz angry. Sometimes he got home late at night, drunk and just wanted to take it out one someone else. Unfortunately that someone tended to be me. I forgave him every time. It was the alcohol, so it wasn’t really his fault. I could take it, better me than anybody else.

I found myself sitting in the apartment all by myself more often then not. Daz was always busy, and he knew I didn’t enjoy large events or the media, so he didn’t want to drag me along every time he went away.

It was fine, although I did miss Shusui dearly at this point. It was just a stupid dog and I barely even had it for a week, I shouldn’t miss it!! But I felt lonely.

A new habit of mine was sitting on the balcony for hours, scrolling through my contacts. Most chats were unread, I tended to simply delete missed calls and voice massages that weren’t from Daz by now.

I only really left the apartment for work, the Dojo was going great and I didn’t need to be there all the time anymore with two more instructor to deal with the courses. I only really took care of the private lessons and the kid’s course, because I actually liked doing that, and the accounting, but that was easy enough from home.

There was a very nice neighbour, he owned the flat beneath us, so I felt a little bad for the elderly man living there. We were probably real shitty neighbours to have with all the fights we had. But Brook didn’t seem to mind, at least he didn’t mention it. I liked it when he played the piano. I didn’t feel like smiling most of the time I was home alone, but his music always did the trick somehow.

Outside of work him and Perona were kind of the only people I even talked to anymore, well next to Daz obviously. But I didn’t really feel like I was actually talking to my boyfriend anymore.

I was interested in Daz’s life, I asked him how his trips went and if he had been to nice places, and Daz liked to talk about his life. The questions Daz wanted answers to were always demanding information, never out of simple interest…

On some days I felt like I didn’t speak at all, not even if Daz was home with me. I was beginning to feel paranoid.

It was a normal occurrence by now that Daz barged into the lessons I was giving, but then he tried to do something that was far past any kind of acceptable even for me. I could forgive a lot of things, I was always patient and understanding with my temperamental boyfriend, but when he tried to hit me in front of the kids, I caught his arm harder than strictly necessary and stepped close.

“I am teaching these children about the way of the sword and self-defence. If you ever try anything like this in front of my students again, I will break your arm. We can discuss this later, at home, do you understand?” My voice was deadly calm and for once my words didn’t falter in his presence.

He felt how serious I was and backed down without another word, but his eyes spoke enough about how much I would regret this. I didn’t feel nervous or scared, I was satisfied and would take whatever punishment he saw fit for my behaviour later. The kids were still innocent, that was much more important than a few broken bones on my side.

I didn’t say anything when I got home, I just let Daz push me around. It wasn’t the worst beating I had taken from him, so I tried to stay calm, but something unexpected pushed me off balance.

Next to the couch sat a large glass table. I knew it was a designer piece and fucking expensive. I desperately tried to hold onto Daz’s shirt while he hit me, put I was already falling.

I couldn’t really remember hitting it, but my head felt like it was struck with a knife. It was silent around me, I must have passed out for a minute there, because Daz was nowhere in sight. My perspective was weird somehow, one of my eyes was swollen shut, the other staring at the couch kind of upside down. I had to be on the floor if the distance to the ceiling was anything to go by.

Everything hurt, so I curled up as best as I could, instantly regretting the movement. There was a crunching sound all around me and the side I lied on stung and burned.

Ahh, yes, right, the glass table probably wasn’t a table anymore. I lifted the one arm that felt functional and carefully touched the ground. Shards of broken glass were strewn all around me. Then I brought it up to my head where the pain was the most intense.

I should be touching soft hair there, I expected a lump or maybe a small wound. But it felt sticky and hot all over. That had to be a lot of blood then. Instead of a small wound I found a large cut. A very large cut. I probably hit the very edge of the table.

Getting up was fucking painful, but I didn’t really know how long I had been unconscious for, or even how long I had been coherent and just lying down because I felt unable to move with all the pain I was in and the glass surrounding me. Headwounds could be really dangerous, I needed to get up and go get help.

I called out to Daz, my voice shaking and weak, but he wasn’t around. He literally left me to bleed out in his living room… I had to swallow hard and tried to think through the tick wall of pain in my head that tried to make any intelligent thoughts impossible. I had to move, but I couldn’t think of anybody to go to.

In the end I decided to make my way to the clinic by myself. It wasn’t far, I should be able to do it.

I was probably lucky that I didn’t cross anybody on the street, because I looked like a background character for a zombie apocalypse scenario or something. They probably would have called the cops on me or something.

I found my way to the clinic surprisingly well and Robin was quick to get me the help I needed. I felt safe enough with her to relax, although I didn’t have an answer to the question how it happened. I told her the first thing I could think of, that I fell.

While they were still trying to get the bleeding to stop, I realized that that was the worst cover story every, especially because Daz had kicked the living shit out of me before I even hit the table. I probably looked worse than most roadkills beneath my shirt, so I tried to tell them that it wasn’t necessary to take it off. I was fine other than the cuts, it wasn’t bad…

Robin didn’t say anything when she finally got the shirt off. I was thankful and relaxed a little. Well, the last part was probably the painkillers kicking in. It was the good shit, by now I knew the difference, because the needle digging into my skull felt a little funny while I fought to stay awake. I only fell asleep after I was alone in a room.

I didn’t know how long I slept, but by the time I woke up I wasn’t alone anymore. I could feel Daz’s large, warm palms holding one of my hands, petting it carefully. My head felt too large and heavy even while lying down. I didn’t want to talk and for once I didn’t want to hear his apologies either.

All my boyfriend said was that he was glad I was okay. I could form a small smile at that. It was better than an apology. I was always tough, no need to worry.

Robin handed me a new set of prescriptions and carefully explained the wound care I had to do at home. She was strict with ordering bedrest of me, I should move around as little as possible in the next week, no shower until the stitches got taken out and definitely no work.

I felt like shit, so I didn’t argue. The concussion I had wasn’t bad, as long as it didn’t get any worse there shouldn’t be any complications and if I was worried about anything I was supposed to come right back here. I just wanted to go home and sleep some more.

Daz carried me up the stairs even though I could have walked and let me rest afterwards. For now I couldn’t think, my brain and my body were exhausted, both emotionally and physically, so I slept.


	7. A call for help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, this chapter is probably as hard and graphic as it's going to get. There is triggering content all along, the first half written from Nami's POV the second part is Zoro again. Daz is overly touchy and harsh while his partner is still healing and Zoro realizes he needs out. If someone wishes for a summary instead I could deliver it in the end notes, just write a small comment or contact me via mail. Have a look at the tags first, I updated them accordingly.
> 
> Info!!  
> I am currently busy with moving out. The whole ordeal will probably take around 4-6 weeks from now on, so the updates could get a little sporadic again, hope you enjoy the chap for now :3

All of us were very high strung after the incident two weeks ago. Chopper had looked so frightened while telling his side of the story, that had taken place at the Dojo while he and the other children had their lesson with Zoro.

And he was right to be scared, because when Sanji went to check in on our green haired friend on the next day he was nowhere to be found. Instead he was met with an elderly neighbour of the swordsman, who told us that he was at the clinic right now, after “an accident”.

Brook was a very nice man and he had some insights on Zoro’s living situation no one else had at the moment. But probably even more important was that he was also a close friend of Nico Robin. The woman was the idiot swordsman’s new doctor at a private clinic very close to their complex and apparently she was very concerned.

The older woman had a very wise aura about her and already knew of the tricky situation her patient was in. She agreed easily with all the information Law gave her and confirmed her fellow doctor’s suspicions that the abuse had been growing more violent the longer he’d been living with his partner, coming to a recent hight with an injury that could have killed him under different circumstances.

Sanji had seen him for a minute while he was still securely unconscious. All the blonde managed to say was the he looked horrible, his face was swollen and bruised from the large cut hidden in his hair. There were a lot of bandages and even more blood residue on him.

No one voiced the thought, but it was obvious in the cold atmosphere of the room while all of us met once again, introducing both Robin and Brook to the group.  
‘The next time he’ll kill him’

It was such a scary thought, but highly realistic. It was pure luck this time that Zoro was well enough to leave the clinic on the very same day he staggered in half dead. The next time could go so much worse, so all of us desperately hoped there wouldn’t be a next time but we also knew that that was not going to happen. Zoro was too stubborn and loyal for his own good. According to both doctors it was also very likely that he was actually blaming himself for the things that happened to him.

I couldn’t hold my tears back at that. I was just so frustrated, because it was clear as day for everyone present that the hurt Zoro was going through was solely Daz fault, because Daz was manipulating him, separating him from everyone else and hitting him and oh my god I didn’t want to continue the thought of what else that man could do to our friend behind closed doors, it was just too painful and scary to think about.

I was glad Perona wasn’t here today, so I was the only one crying. Mihawk though was very much present and Shanks and Sanji physically needed to hold him back from storming to that house.

Surprisingly it was Brook that managed to calm the enraged father. He told him about how friendly and sunny Zoro still was as long as you could overlook his façade of silent aggression. Even though he was going through hell right now, he was a good person that could be saved, but only if he agreed to be saved. He would just push his father farther away from him if Mihawk decided to storm the apartment now…

Sadly he was right, so Mihawk forced himself to calm down. Law and Robin continued to talk about injuries and medical stuff I really didn’t want to hear anymore, so Usopp and I took the four kids outside to play tag for the duration of the meeting.

Shanks and Garp were writing notes all along. At least the documentation of the case would be flawless with all the professionals involved. Gotta see the positive side to all of this…

Brook was keeping everyone up to date after that, but he kept even closer contact with me. If one excluded Perona, because his sister had always been a special person for Zoro, he would never cut her out of his life, Zoro kept contact with me for the longest time.

We knew each other since we were kids after all, our bond was kind of special was well and until very recently he would have trusted me with his life.

All of us agreed that he would first try to contact me if things went south and he wanted out. He hadn’t texted me for weeks now, but never ever would he call out to his little sister if he really needed help, so it would probably me. He wouldn’t want her scared or hurt, he was always a selfless bastard like that.

I kept my phone closer than ever, making sure it was always charged and ready because of that.

According to Brook and Robin everything was calm though. The elderly musician went to check in on his neighbour frequently and his recovery was going well apparently. There were no audible fights or commotions either and although Zoro always looked exhausted and hurt he seemed well other than the obvious.

And after exactly two weeks the calm broke in the form of a call. I picked up on the very first ring, completely forgetting about the noodles I had been stirring because it was Zoro’s name that flashed over the screen. I barely had enough thought left to turn the stove off and started running to get my shoes and jacket in a haste.

The line was silent, I faltered for a second, only hearing my own heartbeat pound in my ears. “Zoro, is that you?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and relatively silent, just in case Daz was close by.

“Nami?” There was absolutely nothing of his usually confident swagger in my friend’s voice, instead it was raspy and small, like he hadn’t used it in days and just barely reached a whisper. “Yes, it’s me. What is it Zoro?” I answered, trying to push patience and understanding into my own tone.

Suddenly there was a loud pounding sound in the background and I could hear Zoro shuffling, nervous. His voice was shaking when he next spoke up, gulping air like a dying man, probably barely keeping his panic in check.

“Nami, I think I need help.” He whispered. I tried to answer, but there was another loud crash interrupting the conversation, followed by a soft sob. Zoro was crying and fucking scared if his desperate need to stay quiet was anything to go by. It broke my heart, but I needed to stay calm a little longer, for his sake.

“What is happening? Are you okay?” I asked instead. The noise in the background got worse and Zoro whimpered. A small sound, it was barely there at all, but enough to tell me that there wasn’t much time.

“Nothing bad, just dislocated my shoulder, but… I can’t deal with this on my own anymore. He has a knife. I’m scared Nami, I need help. He’s going to kill me, he’ll fucking kill me..” I could only try to grasp what he was telling me, because wow, a dislocated shoulder wasn’t a bad thing? That was such a Zoro thing to say and… Oh my god, had he just told me that Daz had a knife and was coming after him with it?!

There was another sob, this one more harsh, closer to panic because the banging in the background just got a bit louder. My best guess was that Daz was currently demolishing whatever kind of door was between them right now and literally got closer to killing his boyfriend with said knife. A very panic inducing thought for both me and Zoro it seemed.

“I’m going to hang up now Zoro, I’ll call the cops. Help’s already on the way, try to stay calm for a little longer, you’re doing great, just hide and wait. I promise, everything will be alright, I’ll be there in a second.”

I was lying through my teeth. Obviously I had no idea if anything would ever by alright again, if we could be on time to save him, but I would keep my promise as best as I could. I would help him, and if it was the last thing I’d ever do!

Zoro made a sniffling sound, breathing harshly, trying to comply with my demands. “Thank you. For everything.” He whispered softly, as if saying goodbye forever. I chocked on my own sob while hanging up and instantly called 911, giving them the address and what I knew of the situation.

I called Brook next, because I needed to get into my fucking car already and Brook was the closest, so he could call everyone else and open the door for the police and hopefully get to Zoro first, who would be alright. He had to be alright…

\-----

The cut from the glass table wasn’t the first headwound I received, neither was it the first concussion I had in my life, but it was certainly the worst.

Robin assured me it was healing well, the stitches got taken out after barely five days, but it still hurt worse than expected. Sure, I had painkillers at home that could probably tranquilize a horse, but it still felt uncomfortable.

In the first week at home I slept nearly all the time because of this. Really, the only time I got up was when Brook came over. He was very nice, helped with cleaning up and bandaging the arm and all the stuff I couldn’t really do by myself while Daz was out of the house.

My limbs just felt too heavy to do much more than that and my head was still killing me, especially because Daz took the strongest painkillers away after the stitches went. I couldn’t remember Robin saying anything about that, but my head didn’t exactly work well at the moment, so I trusted my boyfriend to make the right decisions for me. He always did.

I was a little more awake after that though, so it had to be right?

Well, at first being home all the time was nice. Daz was much more gentle than I could remember him being in the last months and he spent a lot of time just lazing by my side in bed. We didn’t talk much anymore, but it was still nice.

In the second week he started to get pushy though. The soft touches and cuddles quickly turned out to be forceful groping with a very clear intent.

It hurt, my ribs and stomach were still more bruises than actual skin, I had a pounding migraine most of the time and my arm was badly cut from all the glass. His touch burned and I winced as he tried to grab my hips, snaking my injured limbs out of his reach as best as I could.

“Daz? I’m not in the mood today.” I simply told him and although he made an annoyed sound he just turned around on the bed and let me be for the night.

That didn’t mean he stopped his efforts though. The next evening, he was once again pushing me into the mattress, kissing my throat in a way that could only be described as hungry, his hands way to firm on my chest. I grabbed his wrist and pushed his face upwards as careful as I could manage, shaking my head softly.

“It still hurts babe, can we not?” I asked him and he nodded, a gruff and frustrated sound on his lips. I felt guilty, but also relived. It was a weird feeling.

On the next evening I was already dozing when he came to bed, so I hoped he would get the message this time, but as soon as his weight shifted the sheets his hands were groping my ass and thighs, pushing them apart and placing himself in-between them.

I turned in his direction slowly, dazed from sleep. “I’m only going to touch you where it doesn’t hurt, promise.” He whispered close to my ear. I just sat up, effectively leaving him behind with my legs pulled close to my chest. “I’m too tired.” I mumbled and could see the aggression build in his eyes.

“You’re always fucking tired. At least blow me or something.” He swore, it was a low hissing sound that only made my headache flare. “Daz, my head. It’s already been bad today.” I answered him, rubbing close to that patch of gauze still covering the wound. He relented at that, getting up to sleep on the couch or something. I didn’t bother, I was just too tired.

He wasn’t there on the next morning either. The uncomfortable mix of guilt and relieve once again resided in my stomach.

The next night I decided on acting as if I was asleep to stay out of trouble. I knew how short my boyfriend’s fuse was by now. Making him wait on something he wanted was never a wise idea, making him wait four nights in a row? Very very bad idea. I wasn’t one for lying or deceiving people, but it just felt like the safest option to me.

Daz touched my face, pulled my lip down a little when he got home and found me “fast asleep”. His hand drifted down to my waist in a fluid motion, then grabbed my inner thigh. It was very uncomfortable. Thank god that I usually had a deep sleep, so it wasn’t unrealistic that I wouldn’t wake up in a situation like this. I just had to stay lax and breathe deeply.

It was also pretty scary because my mind was wide awake and filled to the brim with questions and anxiety. Was this the first time Daz touched me like this while I was unconscious? My pulse was going like crazy, but after another minute he let go of me and went to sleep at my back.

I opened my eyes and stared at the wall for a long time, unable to actually sleep. What was I even doing here? When had this become so normal? Since when was our relationship so intimidating and Daz’s touch something to fear? There were no tears left, so I simply laid awake for hours.

By the time I actually fell asleep it was early morning and Daz got up to do whatever he did nowadays. It wasn’t like he told me what he did anymore. Only after he wasn’t lying down next to me any longer did I close my eyes for real.

Honestly, it was only a nap, because I was already wide awake again when Daz got home around lunch. He was pissed about something, but I had no idea why.

I had been standing in the kitchen, cutting some vegetables for the fried rice I had been planning on cooking today. But shortly after the front door closed, I was enveloped by huge arms I was very familiar with and a dark hand pried the knife out of my hands, putting it down on the counter so he could turn me around.

Immediately my lips were met with another warm set, Daz’s tongue lapping, forcing it’s way in. I kissed back more out of habit than anything else, my hands holding onto his shirt in shock and a search for balance. Daz seemed to take this as a positive reinforcement, because his hands were soon grabbing my ass, one of them wandering between my legs shortly after.

I took a step backwards, but he simply followed, turning my subtle attempts to get away into a quick stroll into our bedroom until I could finally get my face away from him long enough to get a few words in. “Daz, I don’t wanna have sex now, I’m not feeling well.” I said, trying to make my words sound firm and serious.

“You’ve been making the same excuses for weeks now! The injury wasn’t that bad, come on, stop being such a pussy already.” He snarled, anger down to the very core of his words. “How much longer do you want me to wait, huh?!”

His hand was grabbing my arm as soon as I tried to get more space between us, the bandaged arm. Pain was rippling through it and I felt several small cuts opening again, warm and sticky. I tried to yank at the appendage, but Daz only gripped harder, immune to my pain.

“It hurts.” I hissed through grit teeth, trying to pry at his hand now. “It wouldn’t have to if you were a good bitch and did as I told you. Is that so hard to understand?!” He growled loudly at that, his free hand now holding onto my throat and squeezing hard.

“Let go! Let me go!” I wheezed, tears unwillingly springing to my eyes while he was cutting my airflow. I always hated it when he would touch my neck or my throat, but this time it felt like he really wasn’t planning to let go until he finally got what he wanted.

At least he let go of my arm and for a short little second, I had hope that everything would be okay, that Daz would back off and apologize like he always did. Instead his fist hit the injured side of my head hard. I probably lost consciousness for a second there because the next thing I knew was that a larger body was pressing mine into the mattress, my legs still dangling from the side.

I could breathe better now, but my boyfriend’s familiar hands were ripping at my shirt impatiently, tearing the neck a little in the process. Then he turned me around forcefully as soon as he noticed I was awake again, ripping my uninjured arm upwards and back, pinning me face down. My shoulder tried to protest the unnatural movement, but Daz was much stronger than me at least muscle-wise.

The muscle gave and I could feel the joint ripping out of it’s socket. I screamed as best as I could with my face buried in the sheets.

I was still a little disorientated, but my instincts were clear. If I didn’t move now things would get much worse, I didn’t even want to imagine it, so I let them act instead of suppressing them like I usually did around Daz.

My leg shot upwards, foot hitting the groin of the taller male above me with several strong kicks. Daz instantly tumbled to the floor, this time he was the one screaming in pain. My fly was open, but my phone was still in my pocket, so I got up as fast as I could in my dazed state, sending another kick right into the other man’s solar plexus to keep him down for a little longer.

Not that it helped much, he was already getting up again, blocking the exit. The only place I could run to was the adjacent bathroom, because fighting was definitely not an option with all my injuries now. Not to mention the absolute terror I was feeling when watching his taller build blocking the door, hatred burning in his eyes, evil intent all over.

I ran, locking the door behind me. Thank god that the expensive apartment had stable quality doors, it would definitely take him a while to break that one down. Nonetheless I was scared und huddled in the smallest corner I could find, far from the door, between the toilet and the sink. Rationality wasn’t a thing for my brain in that situation, but I guess that’s only natural.

One of my arms was completely useless now, so I had to fumble with my phone for a while. Daz was raging in front of the door, screaming at me.

“Get out of there right now, do you hear me Zoro?! Come here you fucking bitch! At least do the one thing you’re good at, why would anyone ever put up with your lazy ass if you weren’t at least a good fuck! Open the door, or I’ll make you regret it!!”

My hands were shaking like crazy, at one point I dropped the phone and had to start all over again.

It was calm for a second, but this time I didn’t hope. I was dreading whatever would come next. And there it was, a loud crashing sound, wood splintering and Daz cackling like a madman.  
“One last chance, come here, or I’m going to cut the door down and get you myself!” I had to bite my lip, because my instincts were fighting each other. One half was reasonable and told me stay put and wait it out, to get help, because this wasn’t okay, and it definitely wasn’t my fault that Daz was like this. The other half though wanted to open that door and apologize to my boyfriend so he wouldn’t get more angry…

Daz had a knife and was trying to cut the door down and probably me along the way only because I didn’t want to sleep with him for once because I was still hurt. This was so crazy. How the hell had I gotten myself in this situation?!

I supressed a sob and shook my head to clear my thoughts. “Fine, have it your way bitch! I’m going to fucking kill you when I get my hands on you, believe it!”

I finally dialled Nami’s number at that, because I just couldn’t deal with this on my own. If anybody knew how to handle the shit, I got myself into this time, it was Nami, she always knew what to do.

Thankfully Daz was quiet after that, completely focusing his aggression on the door, so I could gather myself enough to tell her what was going on. Her voice was just the same as I remembered it, although she usually didn’t use such a soothing tone with me. I missed her dearly, I missed everyone now that I heard her again after months without calls.

She was telling me to keep calm, but the banging on the door got louder and louder. There was more wood splintering now, there couldn’t be much of the door left to protect me. I thanked Nami for everything and hoped it could convey how grateful I was. Just in case I wouldn’t get to see her again…

After the call ended it didn’t take long for the door to break, the handle was creaking painfully as it was ripped out of the socket, the entrance opening to the enraged form of Daz.

He was out of breath when he entered the bathroom, his eyes were wild. I had seen him in a state of rage a lot by now, but never had it been this bad before. The knife in his hand didn’t make it any better.

I pulled my legs close to my chest, hiding in the little crook I found for myself and protecting my body as best as I could. Daz was staring down at me, disgust clear on his face. As soon as he was close enough, I kicked one of his legs out from under him. He wasn’t used to me actually putting up a fight, so it was easy enough to get him. He dropped the knife to catch himself, just as expected, so my next kick sent the small blade into a far-off corner, out of reach for now.

Daz was faster than expected though and caught my leg after the kick and started pulling to get me out of my defence. I grabbed the closest thing I could reach with my working arm, a small handle built into the cabinet at my side, for towels and stuff like that. I held on for dear life while the other man was screaming at me to get up.

“Let go.” I simply answered, my voice much smaller and weak compared to his booming. My muscles were trembling, patches of blood staining the bandage the longer I held on, but I just couldn’t let go.

I felt faint, the injuries were taking a toll on me, but now that I thought about it, I also couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten this week. In the end it wasn’t my strength that gave though, the handle cleanly ripped out of the cabinet and Daz ended up dragging me out of my little hiding space over the cold tile.

I yowled in pain like a kicked dog when my dislocated shoulder hit the hard floor, trying to curl around it, but Daz was merciless and only stopped pulling my leg when I could feel hardwood boards beneath me instead of tile.

Back in the bedroom then. I tried to orientate myself in the second it took for Daz to right his posture, but a hard kick to the side hindered my thinking quite effectively and I was flung into a wall with the force of it. I groaned, my head rolling, vision unclear.

Daz’s silhouette was clear enough though, so I jumped to my legs with surprising agility and put all my strength into the one hit I had before he would overpower me completely. I aimed my fist for his jugular.

The boxer was caught off guard by my attack and stumbled, started coughing wildly, desperately trying to get enough air into his lungs.

I tried to run again, this time for the door. Brook would help me, right? Or was that to obvious? Would Daz come after me even there and hurt other people like he hurt me? Should I run out of the building and hide somewhere until the police came like Nami promised?

When I finally reached it, the door was locked. The key wasn’t there either. I wasn’t afraid of many things, but this felt like a nightmare. Like it was too horrible the be true. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I tried to find the goddamn keys with all my might, but they were nowhere to be found!

Daz was taking too long. He probably went back to get the knife because he knew exactly that I couldn’t leave. I tried to supress another sob. But failed miserably. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of my despair, but I really couldn’t help myself.

I didn’t hear Daz get closer, there was only my panic induced heartbeat in my ears, so it was easy for him to grab my neck again and turn my around in his grip like a doll. Before I even knew what was happening, he started punching my face. I couldn’t keep count, but I knew he wasn’t holding back, my nose made an ugly crunching sound and blood was all that I could taste.

My knees gave out under me and I could distantly hear my boyfriend laugh above me. “Yeah, that’s right, kneel.” He said loud enough for me to understand and I finally realized something very important. Daz had been on a power trip for months now. Continuously pushing me down seemed to give him a kind of kick nothing else could, because even while we had been happy, before all the insults and injuries, Daz had never laughed as freely as he did right now. He craved power over another person and I had willingly handed it to him.

I tried to get up, but the taller male easily held me down in my weakened state, pushing my upper body to the floor as well. “You won’t run anywhere from now on.” He said before he started with a large cut on my inner thigh, down to my knee. I couldn’t even produce a sound, because I simply couldn’t breathe with the pain it lit in my nerves.

My fingers scratched over the floor desperately, trying to find purchase, a way to get out from under him even though there was no place I could run to. My mind was more or less blank except for my instincts that still tried to tell me to get away, to survive.

Daz dug his fingers into the gaping wound he just created and pulled. This time I screamed like a dying animal, because the pain was so intense it easily rivalled the cut that had me spilling my guts several years back.

When he pulled his hand back it was completely covered in red and I briefly wondered how much blood I even had to bleed anymore. I couldn’t think much more though, because Daz was getting closer now, settling his knees on my arms and slowly putting his full bodyweight on me. I could barely breath, the weight combined with the pain in my arms and the bruises covering my torso was unbearable.

All I could do was wheeze and wriggle, but there was no way I could build enough strength in a position like this to throw Daz off. I could watch the knife get closer again until the blade laid flat against my cheek.

This time Daz didn’t say anything as he changed the position of the steel in his hands and the threat, he had spoken at the beginning of all this flashed through my mind. I am going to kill you.

The tip dug into my forehead and he started to drag the blade downwards. I could feel my brow being split apart under the pressure and tried to breathe through the pain somehow.

There was a commotion out in the hallway and then pounding on our door. Someone was screaming, but I couldn’t hear anything while the knife got dragged over my face. Daz’s large palm was covering the lower half of it, muffling the scream that built in my throat, but even silenced like this it had to be loud, because I could feel my eyelid part and then everything was filled with white hot pain for a second.

Daz only stopped the knife’s track halfway down my cheek and probably because that was where his own hand started and nothing else. My vision was off and terrible after that, splotches of darkness and red and flashes of the ceiling and Daz in-between was all I could really get and it filled me with nausea. Luckily there was nothing in my stomach to throw up.

There was a loud crash and I tried to turn my head in the right direction so my weird view could catch what was going on around me. The front door was broken out of it’s hinges and lying flat on the floor, several men trampling over it. There was a gun pointed in our direction. No, more than one gun and they were all pointed at Daz.

I couldn’t process what they were saying, but Daz sat up straight after that, lifting his hands in the air and dropping the knife. I flinched as hard as my exhausted body was able to as soon as it hit the floor with a loud clatter and before I knew it the men were surrounding us.

Two of them lifted Daz off me and then pushed him to the floor face down by my side, pulling his arms behind his back, cuffs clicking loud like thunder. And then he was gone. A new set of people surrounded me, paramedics that tried to talk to me. I couldn’t find the will to answer their questions, so I just tried to blink the blood out of my vision. It didn’t work.

Then there was a familiar face. Robin’s sky-blue eyes were all I could see for a moment. She had a rueful smile on her slender lips.  
“Hello Zoro.” She said while covering the bleeding half of my face with gauze, her careful but steady hands soothing. My vision stayed exactly the same even though half of it should’ve blacked out with this move. That meant it had probably already been gone the second Daz brought the knife to my eye. I wasn’t surprised and just stared at the doctor with the one eye I still had. I felt my own lips curl to fit her smile.


	8. A feeling of helplessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there! It is November 11th, Zoro's birthday and I finally got my shit together enough to post something after nearly two months x'D  
> Here we have first Brook's and then Robin's POV of the consequences of last chapter. It's much less graphic but we have some medical mumbo jumbo and Robin's (actually mine) morbid view on things that definitely could gross people out. Sorry for that, I just can't be a nice person apparently ^^'
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is still sticking around with this story, you make my day people <3 If you don't want to miss any of my sporadic updates again, subscribe to this work or my account if One Piece isn't the only fandom interest we share :3

I was very worried about Zoro ever since talking to Robin and meeting all of his friends.  
On top of that, he was unusually subdued after his latest injury. Sadly, I had seen him hurt in one way or another most of the time I even knew the young man, but this injury in particular seemed to have the biggest impact on him as of yet.

Superficially he was calm about the whole affair, but I knew he was actually just bone tired. An obvious symptom of that was that he actually let me help him with his wound care and small chores, even though it was typically the other way around.  
Well, it wasn’t like I actually needed his help, I wasn’t that old, but that hadn’t stopped Zoro from carrying my stuff up the stairs in the past. Not even when I could obviously see a new bruise or bandage adorn his body.

He was lethargic and even less talkative than before. I could guess from his clothes that he barely even got out of bed when I wasn’t visiting. At least Robin gave the headwound her all-clear. It was healing well, just like all the other cuts and bruises this time around, although our friend was still in a large amount of pain.

Technically it was too much pain considering the extra strong painkillers she had prescribed, but we all guessed Zoro’s tolerance for both pain and medication was just a little abnormal from past experiences. Neither of us put too much thought into the matter.

Shanks and Garp nevertheless warned us not to relax. As police officers of a considerable rank, although the latter was technically retired, they were both intimately familiar with the erratic behaviour of people like Daz. It was easy to assume the man was a sociopath with how little he was able to empathize with his victim after all.

The ex-boxer’s pattern was escalating quickly. His outbreaks that left Zoro in a condition bad enough to require professional medical help came much more often now, than at the beginning of their relationship and the injuries tended to be of a much more devastating nature as well.

All of us were ready for something drastic to happen at any moment, while of course none of us wanted to face the possibility that something even worse could happen to our friend at any time.

After every daily visit at the apartment right above mine, I had a long call with both Robin and Nami.

The intend of the former call was quite obvious, as Robin was his doctor. He still had to check in with her regularly, but at home Zoro unintentionally revealed details, that he would try to actively hide while meeting her in person.  
The call to Nami was because all of us suspected the she would be the one he would turn to, if he ever called out to someone anyways. I probably didn’t know them for long enough to understand why the bond between the temperamental redhead and the stoic swordsman was this intense, but even a blind man could see that it was special in a way most relationships could never be.

I really hoped that I would one day get to understand these things, but that required seeing these two young friends actually interact, which had not happened in front of my eyes just yet because of the whole Daz situation and all that.

After around two whole weeks of silence from up above, there was a sudden commotion and the typical screaming I was shockingly already well used to. I hesitated, unsure what to do about it.

I could go upstairs myself and check the situation out. I probably wouldn’t be of much help though, should there be an actual problem. I could call the cops, or at least Shanks, but Zoro definitely wouldn’t like that if it was just one of their usual fights. On top of that he would definitely find out that it was me that called the police in the first place and the small bond of trust we had would break.

I should call Nami, right? She knew the green haired swordsman well, she would probably be able to find a solution… The screaming upstairs got worse.

Before I could make a decision about who I should call, my own phone began to ring. I nearly had a heart attack when it was Nami’s name flashing on the screen. The meaning of this was quite clear, whatever was going on up there finally got Zoro to call out to his friend. Not that that was a good thing, it just was exactly what we had been dreading for weeks now.

I gulped while picking up and found a quite panicked Nami screaming into my ears. She didn’t tell me much except for that I should definitely stay clear from that apartment, it was dangerous. Instead I should call everyone over and wait downstairs for the police. She already called emergency services, so they should be coming soon, so was she if the noise on her side of the call was an indicator of her rapid movement.

It was a very short call and it left me feeling unwell in every possible meaning of the word. The situation had to be very grief if this was the outcome. Right now I didn’t have much time to think about it though, instead I did as I was told, taking the stairs down three at a time while I dialled Robin’s number first. His doctor should definitely be present if the situation was this bad.

That call was even shorter than Nami’s, all I had to say was that she should come over as fast as possible because Zoro was definitely in trouble this time.

I quickly opened the front door one-handed while pressing the keys for the next number, ignoring the noisy protests of the clerk sitting in the entrance hall of our building.  
I paced the door restlessly while calling Garp, who in turn called Shanks, and then I continued with Mihawk, Sanji and Law.

By the time I was done with all five calls, I could hear sirens, they had to be pretty close and finally got here around two minutes later. I quickly told them which apartment they were looking for and hesitated, caught between wanting to follow the men upstairs and waiting for the others to get here.

I was relieved of my decision when Robin showed up only seconds after the police, thank god that she lived so close by. The doctor was quick in running upstairs, but somehow had enough calmness and breath about her to tell me that I should stay put down here and wait. I couldn’t argue with her, so I began my pacing anew and watched out for the others.

The next person to show up was Nami. She didn’t even have time to look me in the eye and I felt a deep respect for her bravery as she ran up the stairs without even thinking of the consequences of what she would find up there. Honestly, in her presence I felt ashamed of my own fear.

Shanks surprisingly showed up with Mihawk in tow while arguing vocally. The enraged father seemed just as intent on storming up those stairs as Nami had been, but the red-haired police officer was desperately trying to hold him back.

I could understand the position of both men better than I had hoped to, because Mihawk just wanted to finally protect and comfort his son, but it was obvious, that he would do something he would later come to regret if he came face to face with Bones now, while Shanks was trying to keep him from doing just that. 

It was a real dilemma, but for now I had to take the officer’s side. I quickly joined the man’s effort of holding Mihawk back as best as I could.

It looked like this was all for nought though, because just as the father in our arms was beginning to calm down three police officers came down the stairs, flanking the large form of no other than Daz Bones himself, his dark skin and clothes splattered with blood that definitely wasn’t his.

For a second everything was silent when the man known as Hawkeye stared at the cuffed ex-boxer, and then Bones flashed his pearly whites. He was laughing.

“Are you scared? Or why won’t you go up there and look at what’s left of your son, because I’ll tell you now, he’s mine forever, even when I’m not there to keep him in check anymore!” Daz mocked him and Mihawk understandably fucking lost it at that.

Shanks tried to wrestle him into a chokehold, and although he was about a head taller than the other man, Hawkeye wasn’t known as the strongest swordsman for nothing, it was practically impossible to hold him back all alone, so I held onto his arms with all my might.

“What did you do to Zoro?! I’ll kill you! I swear to god, I’ll kill you!” Mihawk was screaming at a volume I thought the usually calm and silent man incapable of and felt my grip slipping as he was pushing all three of us forwards with his strength, closer to Daz so he could get his hands on him somehow.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep old man.” Bones continued to provoke him even though the cops were trying to get him to shut up and lead him out of the building, giving Mihawk another boost of sheer strength in combination with his level of hatred for that man.

We probably wouldn’t have been able to hold him back any longer if it weren’t for another set of arms that gripped the swordsman around his middle. Thank god for Sanji’s talent with timing.

The policemen and Daz disappeared out of view and the last thing we heard was the man cackling like a crazed hyena.  
Mihawk collapsed into the blonde’s arms and cried for the very first time since this all started. It was like the wall that had been holding everything back for the last two years suddenly broke down around the man, leaving him helpless while facing the person that had broken him and his child in the first place.

It was silent in the hall for a long time after that. Law didn’t make a sound as he appeared, he only nodded in our direction briefly before making his way upstairs as well. All in all, it took nearly an hour until Zoro was finally brought down.

\-----

When I got the call from Brook, I was up in an instant. I had a bag packed with everything I could possibly need, although I assumed that paramedics would be there before me as the elderly musician assured me, that Nami had already informed the officials of the situation. Good, because I could only guess the lengths Daz had gone to in order to push Zoro far enough to call for help and the picture it painted in my mind was rather morbid. A habit of mine, one could say.

The high priority content of my bag though, was the extensive medical file I had on Zoro, completed with a full psychological evaluation. The perks of having two different medical degrees.

It would certainly be essential for the police while starting their investigation against Bones today.

Luckily, Zoro’s complex wasn’t far from our own little home. Usually I didn’t enjoy riding a bike without Franky’s presence behind me, but I was glad to have learned driving one of the things, so I was the first to arrive on scene, right after the authorities themselves it seemed.

I passed Brook by in the entrance hall and strictly told him to stay put and wait. Whatever we’d find up there, I knew it wouldn’t be pretty after seeing all those other scars Daz put on the bronze skin of our young friend. It wasn’t something I would subject someone with a soft heart like Brook to.

As someone familiar with this building I found the place easily, well, not that anybody could miss the ruckus going on. The heads of several neighbours were popped out of their doors, softly talking to some of the present policemen, that assured them everything was under control now.

I passed them all by wordlessly and took a deep breath before stepping over the crumpled door, internally strengthening my resolve to stay calm no matter what kind of situation I’d walk into.

The picture Daz painted was certainly a shocking one. The officers finally took notice of me, it seemed and tried to stop me from getting closer to their scene, but a quick explanation of my relation to the victim of their case ensured my way to Zoro.

The man in question was laid out in the middle of the spacious hallway, a significant puddle of blood forming around him, not to mention that his face was barely even recognizable if it weren’t for the green hair that was unmistakably the swordsman’s and the bandages adorning his arms and the side of his head, that I had protectively put there mere days ago.

All the care put towards those wounds was wasted by now, the white bandages stained with fresh blood. His head was tilted so he could see what was going on with the one eye that wasn’t currently leaking over his own face in a bloody mess.

His whole posture looked pained while two paramedics put pressure on his thigh, the main source of all that blood apparently.

Daz was laid out right next to him, although on his front, face pressed into the expensive hardwood floorboards, two policemen mirroring the paramedics, although their pressure wasn’t to stop him from bleeding out, but rather to keep the man responsible for this bloodbath down while putting him in cuffs and reading him his rights.

Zoro was trembling, he was probably going into shock already, not to mention how confused he probably was about the situation as a whole. He didn’t react to the medics at his side, so I stepped in.

I made sure to catch his eye so he wouldn’t startle by the time I crouched down next to his head and greeted him in a soft tone. My hand was quick to grab a set of gloves and a patch of gauze from the stuff the paramedics brought up here and softly put pressure on the nasty cut bisecting his handsome face.

In a painful event like this I couldn’t keep a regretful smile off my face. As a doctor and a friend to this man I asked myself a lot of questions containing the phrase ‘what if’.  
What if I’d involved the police sooner? What if I had confronted Zoro about his obviously unhealthy relationship? Was there something I could have done to prevent this from happening?

But questions and doubts like these never did anybody any good, they would be especially useless to Zoro’s recovery, the here and now was what counted for him.

Zoro’s own lips quirked up a bit in response. The officers finally got Daz to stand up again and led him to a different room for now, so that was one less thing to worry about.

I started asking the questions, that had previously been ignored when the unknown paramedics had asked them, so I decided to leave them to deal with the most grievous wound visible while checking him over for all the other possible injuries still hidden away.

“Have you lost consciousness?” It was very clear that he had received more than one blow to the head from all the blood visible on him and that was a question Zoro was already familiar with answering since the incident two weeks ago.

He nodded, the motion so small it was practically invisible while he was taking laboured breaths. “More than once?” I inquired and he moved his trembling lips, like he was trying the words out first before he could actually say them. “Not sure, maybe two times.” He answered after a while and his voice was as shaky as the rest of him, something that shouldn’t be surprising but felt just so out of place with someone that was usually as calm as Zoro, even when he was seriously hurt.

“Okay. Are there any other injuries we should know about?” I continued in a soft tone, carefully lowering my voice so he would be the only one able to hear those words.  
There were some telling discolorations adorning the man’s throat, the neck of his shirt was torn, not to mention that his pants were hanging just a little too low. All were indicators of things I really really I hoped Zoro hadn’t gone through on top of everything else he was forced to survive today.

Either Zoro didn’t fully grasp what I was implying with my words, I prayed that was it, or he was consciously ignoring it while answering. “Shoulder’s dislocated.” He hissed through a firmly grit row of teeth.

“You’re doing good. Pain on a scale from one to ten?” I assured him gently while trying to asses as much damage as possible with still keeping eye contact more often than not.  
“Don’t know yet.” He simply said and I made an overly annoyed sound to scold him. “Guess.” I prompted him.

“Six.” He settled on. It was laughable, he was literally gritting his teeth while the paramedics finally let up a bit of pressure so they could get him out of his ruined jeans. “Ah, Zoro-speak for nine to ten.” I countered. He didn’t answer, so I took it as an agreement.

I carefully lifted his bandaged arm a little. The stains there made it clear that several old cuts had been ripped open again, but at least the shoulder was actually working, so that had to do for now. I then placed his trembling hand over the gauze atop his eye, or well, what had once been an eye, so I could work on him with both hands.

The medics worked well with me, adapting to another doctor like a well-oiled machine while handing painkillers, cables, fluids and an IV needle over.  
As his blood pressure was currently a little low, aka his blood all over the floor, it took a while to get it set up, but with painkillers that strong even Zoro began to relax a little as the needle was finally stuck to the back of his hand.

I was just taping a fresh piece of gauze over the cut out eye while Zoro himself was holding a cotton ball beneath his definitely broken nose when Nami pushed past the officers blocking the door.

She was totally out of breath when falling to her knees next to her best friend, ignoring the policemen that were trying to get her to leave. I assured them it was fine while she asked how he was feeling, reaching out, wanting to touch but scared to hurt him even worse than he already was, so her hand ended up hovering in the air uselessly.

Zoro tried to lift his free hand at that, not a very wise move as his shoulder was still very much out of socket, so he miserably tried to supress a pained groan that in turn had Nami flinching violently.

“I’m fine. Thanks to you.” He answered after a few seconds, probably trying to smooth his voice out with a little spit, but he still sounded like he just swallowed a handful of glass after his efforts.  
Silent tears were running down the redhead’s face, but she didn’t make a big deal out of it. Zoro ended up chucking the cotton to the side, snorting a little blood back up his nose and reaching out for his friend with the other hand.

“Idiot.” Nami simply answered while settling down at his side, holding his hand comfortingly. If the comfort was for Zoro or Nami was kind of indistinguishable at this point as both of them looked absolutely out of it.

“I don’t want to live in a world where this is fine anymore Zoro, do you understand?” She said softly after being quiet for some time, while we managed to more or less stabilise all of his injuries. He nodded and for the first time since meeting him I felt like he finally understood what his friend was actually saying.

Not long after Law showed up. Zoro stared at the man absentmindedly, not reciprocating his greeting. Together we examined the shoulder and started a try to pop it back in, that quickly got cut short. Zoro was in too much pain right now and his muscles surrounding the joint were as hard as a literal brick wall, no chance to move it back without a serious dose of muscle relaxer first.

As a reference, Nami looked absolutely like she was going to lose her lunch while one of the paramedics and Law stepped on his torso and pulled on his arm for that, which was understandable. She looked even worse when the officers and Bones passed us by, the latter covered in splatters of her friend’s blood like he was some kind of abstract painting.

Daz was grinning like this was all some kind of joke to him, deeming Zoro not even worthy of a glance over his shoulder while he was led out of the ruined apartment.

The remaining policemen looked a little lost. The victim obviously wasn’t in a state that would allow him to answer their questions at the moment and although they certainly suspected their three sudden guests to be somehow involved in their case, they had enough braincells not to try and disturb the doctors present or the young woman that was holding the guy’s hand that was currently still bleeding all over the room. Small mercies.

So they hung around in the background awkwardly, waiting for a forensics team to show up, asking the paramedics from time to time if there was something they could do to help. One of the officers ended up with the IV bag in his hand while the other two went back down to get the stretcher from the ambulance.

Zoro finally wasn’t at risk anymore to simply bleed out on the way to the nearest hospital, his leg wrapped tightly, a tourniquet secured around his upper thigh, so it was about time to move him.

Nami stepped back reluctantly while we lifted her friend onto the stretcher, Law holding his head steady with his long, tattooed fingers. Something more stable probably would have been a better solution, but nobody wanted to constrict the poor man’s airflow anymore with the deep purple marks steadily blooming over his throat and the wheezing sound of his breathing.

As soon as he was settled, not that he could currently get comfortable while lying down with the direction his shoulder was poking out of him, the redhead was back at his side, grasping his hand firmly. Zoro relaxed a little and smiled in that exhausted state of his.

Thanks to the elevator the ride down was smooth, but then there were five shocked faces greeting us.

Shanks and Garp were both standing to the side, already talking business with their colleagues it seemed, while Brook, and Sanji were trying to console Mihawk in vain. The young father looked to be completely devastated.

The blonde tried to hold the older swordsman back for a second, but there was no stopping Mihawk now that his son was in sight, even he had to admit that. Zoro’s smile dropped as soon as his crying father came into view.

All of us stepped back a little, giving the family all the space we could currently afford to give them while making sure our patient wasn’t getting any worse either. Mihawk didn’t dare to touch him, staring at all the injuries, stunned into silence by the cruelty of the attack.

Zoro was strong, and by that I didn’t mean his muscles either. Even with all the injuries I’d seen on him until now, he was always calm. Today he had to be in a very great amount of pain and still, he had been coherent for most of the time, talked and even smiled after seeing the people he knew.

Until now I hadn’t seen him shed a single tear, it was more like he had been trying to console the people around him ever since Daz wasn’t trying to filet him anymore.

But as he saw Mihawk, thick fat tears smeared down his bloody face. Zoro reached out with his more or less working hand and clawed at his father’s arm as if it was the only thing keeping him alive at the moment. At that he mumbled his son’s name with an overwhelming amount of pain in it and I remembered that they had barely even seen each other since Zoro left to live here instead.

“I’m so sorry dad, I’m so stupid and so sorry, I’m sorry dad, please, I know it’s all my fault, I’m just so stupid, you warned me, you warned me and I didn’t listen, I’m sorry, please, please…” Before anyone knew what was happening, there was a stream of apologies and sobs falling from Zoro’s lips. For the first time everybody got to see what Bones actually did to him, because he looked utterly broken like this.

We all knew that he had to be in a bad state of mind after all the abuse Daz had put him through, but Zoro was just so damn good at putting up a front and now it looked like   
his was what he’d been hiding all along.

I gulped, because as his doctor I should have seen this coming, I should be able to handle it and I still felt like crying. Instead of doing just that I reached out to pat Nami’s shoulder, who was supressing the sounds of her own despair.

Meanwhile Mihawk carefully laid his hand on a patch of hair that was still green enough to ensure that he wouldn’t hurt him if he touched it and leant down until their faces were nearly touching. It was the closest thing to a hug Zoro could probably handle right now.

“You’re not stupid. You’re my son, and my children aren’t stupid, you know that, so don’t say that anymore. Not even single thing that led up to this was your fault. There’s absolutely nothing you need to apologize for Zoro, I’m just so glad that you are alive. I love you.”

The conversation between father and son was barely more than a whisper in the large entrance hall, I just always had uncannily good ears, so listening in on private conversations was a regular thing for me, though I always had the decency to keep these things to myself.

Zoro touched his wet cheek to the side of Mihawk’s face for a second and nodded softly as if saying that he was fine now, after barely even half a minute of crying and then turned in the direction of the paramedics again, who looked kind of ashamed after the intimate display in front of their eyes.

“We should get going, right? Can he come with me?” Zoro asked them and they instantly agreed, back on their job, packing father and son into the back of the ambulance.

I quickly handed Law a copy of Zoro’s medical file and sent him on his way, they would definitely get him to that hospital, so maybe Law would get his job as Zoro’s surgeon back. At least I knew that he was actually any good at his job.

Then I stepped over to Shanks and the other officers, but Nami, Sanji and Brook appeared by my side before I reached them.

“Thank you, Robin, for everything you’ve done. We’ll drive after them now, wait in the hospital until he’s better, meet up with some people there, I guess. Do you want to join us?” The redhead asked, her voice exhausted, but actually conveying her thankfulness. I still had to decline though.

“Thank you for the offer, but I believe Zoro will be in good hands medically, so I want to talk to those lovely policemen first. Whatever lies Bones will sprout while he’s under investigation should be put to rest as quickly as possible, so I want to make my own statement first.” I informed her and Nami grinned back at me.

“Okay, then we’ll see you later.” All of them said their goodbyes before disappearing after leaving their contact information for the investigation going on.  
I met up with Garp, Shanks and the other policemen afterwards and finally got to fully introduce myself. It was a long night at the station until my whole statement was written down, but it was definitely worth it in the end.

Meeting everyone in the waiting room on the next morning was a little overwhelming, but nothing a nap on Franky’s lap wouldn’t cure.


	9. Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my people, it's been nearly two months by now >.< Sorry for that, but I did a big Supernatural fic in December that kept me busy.
> 
> This one is Sanji's POV. I struggled a bit with getting back to my other stories after that, so I fear this chapter is not my best work, but it was inspirational for the continuation of the story, so not a complete waste of time. Thanks for reading, leaving comments or kudos and all the lovely bookmarks and subscriptions, everyone who's still sticking around for the story makes my day XD

Surprisingly I wasn’t shocked when I first caught sight of Zoro. The young man was barely even recognizable, covered in blood and bruises and hastily fastened bandages, but that’s exactly what I expected the moment Brook gave me a call, the older man’s voice trembling with panic, asking me to come here as fast as possible.

The familiar brightly coloured green hair was practically brown with blood. Even though I usually teased him for the unnatural colour, that was in his case somehow actually natural, I instantly thought that a more subdued colour like brown didn’t fit him.

Half of his face was covered by pieces of gauze, already seeping with more blood and still not able to hide the red and blue of bruises forming and swelling underneath. The rest of his body was covered by a blanket to keep him warm while he was probably going through a sever shock, but everything about him still managed to look uncomfortable and pained in a way that made my own hands tremble where they still grasped Mihawk’s white dress shirt.

Before I could even try to hold the young father back, he was sprinting towards the paramedics and their precious cargo. Not that there was still a need to hold him back, he wouldn’t run after Daz right now, he just wanted to be at his long lost son’s side again, but with my hands empty I felt useless and hollow, shock setting into my own bones.

Not because of the gruesome extend of injuries that were probably hidden away under that blanket, but because Zoro started sobbing the moment his one visible eye made contact with his foster father. He was apologising. Even though the words were spoken clearly their meaning flew over my head, Zoro’s logic seemed like it was forcefully bent out of shape by no other hands than Daz’s, so he somehow still believed this was what he brought onto himself, that he needed to apologize for this.

I felt a thick lump form in the back of my throat, unable to swallow around it, emotions I couldn’t quite hope to identify flitting in my mind.

I had seen the bruises and cuts before, but Zoro still had been surprisingly Zoro… He was still stubborn and rude, foulmouthed even, silent and broody Zoro.  
Crying and apologizing weren’t things that Zoro would do. The only other time I ever saw him cry was the day of Koshiro’s death, and even then, Zoro hadn’t been able to utter a single word. He had been near soundless in his panic attack.

Other than that, Zoro never lost his composure, never, and never did he apologize with more than a simple grunt of acknowledgement, that he’d done something wrong.

Seeing that complete mental breakdown from the usually calm swordsman was the truly shocking thing about this sight.

I didn’t know how Mihawk managed to stay calm in a situation like that, but somehow, he found the right words to calm his child. It was what made their relationship so special, Mihawk always found the right words for Zoro even though they were both men of few words.

Not even a minute after the whole scene passed both of them and the paramedics were gone, securely on the way to the hospital, and I still couldn’t find my voice, old memories flashing before my eyes unwillingly.

I remembered the way other kids tried to bully Zoro at school and how he always ended up on top no matter what they tried, I thought of my own brothers and the fear I felt for a long time, even after I understood that something like that would never happen to me again.

I remembered all the pointless fights we had when we were still teenagers and the one time the green haired boy took a drag from my cigarette only for him to end up coughing for an hour or so, crushing the thing in his hand while calling me an idiot. It ended in another fight.

I remembered his broad hands, firmly wrapped around the hilt of a white sword in the arena, his movements flowing and elegant and the same hands wrapped around the hilt of a knife, precisely slicing and dicing vegetables in our kitchen when he was over for dinner.

I remembered his wide shoulders, stance confident and relaxed, his eyes calm and mouth quirked upwards in a cocky gesture, but also the way he looked slumped and small next to Daz in the few pictures that existed of the both of them together, as if he were cowering, dark circles under his eyes weaving a story of fear and sleepless nights in my mind.

I didn’t want to think about it, because my mind making up stories about what his homelife with that man could’ve possibly looked like wasn’t fair on Zoro. He was the only one that could tell a correct version of the story, it wasn’t fair to assume that fear had been what kept him close to Daz just because fear had been what kept me with my own family for so long before finally getting away.

I tried to get my bearings again, looking around the entrance hall and quickly caught sight of Nami. She was standing at the door, staring out onto the street reverently, probably had been ever since the ambulance pulled out of the parking lot, speeding away.

At my side stood Brook. The elderly man looked just as lost as I felt, so I carefully tapped his shoulder and quickly thanked him for the help. Shanks, Garp and Robin were their usual professional selves, talking with the other officers still lingering around, seemingly unaffected by the shock that had paralyzed myself.

Law was nowhere to be found, no wonder, he was probably breaking some speed limits by now, rushing back to work so he could clock himself in on time to treat Zoro.  
Inhaling deeply I steeled my resolve, put on a smile and went over to the beautiful redhead.

Nami’s eyes were red rimmed, but she wasn’t crying anymore, clearly trying to get her emotions under control, at least enough so that she could drive to the hospital herself.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked softly as I reached her and she nodded, although mumbling a soft “No.” while doing so. I understood, after seeing that none of us was really fine, but at least Zoro was safe for now, that was the best we could’ve hoped for while coming here.

“We should invite Robin to come along. And Brook.” She finally said after staying silent and staring into the night for a little longer, plastering her own version of a fake smile on. I agreed and shortly after we sat in my car with the retired musician in the backseat.

Robin was with the police still. I was glad that Zoro met such a compassionate doctor, because it was obvious that she cared for him deeply. She was intelligent in a way that was frankly a little bit intimidating, a thick folder clutched in her arms, detailing all the incriminating evidence Daz had left for her to find in the time she knew Zoro. The woman was insistent that her statement to the police was more important than rest for now, it was amazing.

The drive wasn’t long and I was glad, because my hands were still more shaky than I was comfortable with. Unsurprisingly Mihawk was already sitting in the private little waiting room we were led to upon our arrival at the hospital. His phone was clutched in his hands, the screen slightly cracked under the force, because I clearly remembered it hadn’t been that way before today.

The three of us joined him silently. There wasn’t much to say, all of us were still trying to process.

A few minutes after our arrival Usopp burst into the door loudly, panting for air. He looked like he ran the whole way from the apartment he and Nami shared near the university, even though there obviously wasn’t anything he could do. There was no need to rush, all we could do was wait, but I knew the anxiety filled boy well, there was no way he could’ve not ran here even though he clearly knew that he couldn’t really help anyone.

He was the first one to actually say something, asking around if everyone was alright and bringing water and coffee for us as soon as we assured him that we were doing okay. Only then could he settle down, although he didn’t dare to ask after the one, we were all worried about, consciously ignoring the elephant in the room for the sake of his own sanity.

Not much later two pink haired girls entered the waiting room. The first one was obviously Perona, she was just a blur before running to her father, Mihawk protectively welcomed her into his arms, so the other one was probably Bonny, her girlfriend. I hadn’t met her up until now, but she had a grim look on her face and patiently sat herself down next to them, patting the crying girl’s back and comforting her with soft words.

Between the two of them Zoro’s sister began to relax again, and finally accepted a cup of coffee, an apathetic and totally cried out look covering her usual bubbly smile up effectively, mascara smeared down to her chin.

She was the first one that actually asked how Zoro was doing and wanted to know what happened. Mihawk was struggling with finding words until Nami took pity on the young father and quietly began to explain her own version of the events that led us here.

I couldn’t listen to that, even though I knew Nami would choose soft words, very unlike Mihawk or Zoro himself would describe the violent scene and all the gruesome injuries, but I just couldn’t, so I stepped out for a smoke and instinctively dialled the only number I could always call when everything just got a little too much.

“Hi dad.” I muttered when I heard Zeff’s gruff voice on the other end. He couldn’t quite hide the surprise in his tone at hearing from me at this time of the day and so subdued. We were both cooks, we could barely talk civil for even five minutes a day as far as I knew, screaming at each other was normal, although I really loved the old man that took me in, asking for nothing in return.

“Is… Did something happen?” He finally settled on, even though he already knew what had happened was my guess. I lit a cigarette before saying anything. “Yeah, they arrested Daz. We’re at the hospital with Zoro.” I explained with as few words as possible and my guardian hummed in understanding. “Do you want me to come over?”  
“Nah, just really couldn’t be in there while they explain it to Perona. I’m fine, just wanted to hear your voice I guess.” I answered after only a little hesitation.

“Ah, I get it.” He agreed, knowing Perona well enough. “The boy gonna pull through?” He asked instead of digging deeper, his concern clear even as he tried to mask it with his usual casual rudeness. “Yes, but he looked bad. Like when his father killed himself bad.” I muttered, taking a deep drag, feeling my parent’s voice and the nicotine slowly calm my nerves.

“Tell me when he’s awake?” The old man asked softly and it was my turn to hum in agreement. “Come here when you leave, I don’t want you to be alone right now.” For once I couldn’t argue with his worry, because I felt like I’d go crazy all on my own. “Don’t worry, everyone’s here, none of us are alone with this.” I tried to reassure Zeff and myself at the same time.

Hopefully Zoro would feel the same way when he woke up. Like he wasn’t alone with this anymore and never had to be again. But knowing Zoro he probably felt guilty as hell for pushing us away and thought we’d never want to deal with him again, because in the end, he was always the one that had to please everyone else, because he just couldn’t handle the thought of being a burden. And Daz shamelessly used that against him…

“Thanks old man.” I finally said, ripping myself from my thoughts harshly. “Goodnight eggplant.” Zeff muttered back at me and I ended the call with a small smile gracing my lips, finishing my cigarette with a last inhale.

I felt steadier than before, so I quickly got back to the waiting room. Perona was calm by now, holding the hand of her girlfriend while her father sipped what was probably his fourth cup of coffee. Nami was glancing at her phone regularly, it looked like she was waiting for something, but nobody was speaking, so I didn’t feel up to asking her about it. Instead, I sat myself down next to her and Usopp.

For a long time nothing happened until suddenly a man with electric blue hair entered. I was on my feet before anyone else could react, blocking the taller male from getting any closer.

“I think you got the wrong room.” I growled. It wasn’t my intention to be rude, but all of us were rather high strung at the moment and I felt my protective instincts flaring involuntarily. The man just raised his giant bear like hands in a calming gesture.

“You’re Zoro’s people, right?” He asked in a surprisingly mollifying and relaxed tone. I couldn’t help the confused stare that came over me until suddenly Brook jumped up from his place and put one of his long hands on my shoulder, trying to pacify.

“Franky!” He called out, obviously happy to see the man and all I could do in turn was nod dumbly before the retired musician introduced the newcomer. “This is Robin’s husband. Did she tell you that she was still with the police?” The elderly man continued with a question.

“Yeah, she did, but it’s no problem. Well, as long as I am not a disturbance to the family of course.” He answered with a pointed look at me. I turned around to look at Mihawk instead, it was his decision.

None of us knew how Zoro’s relationship towards these people looked like, he hadn’t been friends with them for long, but Robin had done more than enough to warrant her pure intentions with helping our swordsman, her husband couldn’t be a bad person and even though he looked intimidating, towering even me by several heads, he was friendly and considerate.

It looked like Mihawk came to the same conclusion and got up to shake the newcomer’s hand. “You’re quite welcome.” He simply said without introducing himself. Well, it probably wasn’t hard to guess that he was Zoro’s father as the rest of us was a fair bit younger than the both of them. Franky apparently got it and admitted that he’d been worried after all the things his wife told him about this particular patient of hers.

After that all of us sat down again and both men chatted in soft tones, getting to know each other. It looked like Franky was an emotional guy, he started crying more than once while talking, but he was also a genuinely good person. From what I could hear he hadn’t actually met Zoro in person just yet, but knew a lot of his situation and wanted to get to know him beyond what his wife told him.

Though I couldn’t imagine that Zoro would want to see a lot of people after… that… I didn’t even want to think about the violence he dealt with in the last couple weeks alone, thinking that the abuse went on for years was even harder.

Telling time was difficult in this secluded little room. Of course my phone was sitting heavily in my front pocket, Nami was still playing with her own nervously, looking at the screen would’ve been a simple move, but I didn’t really want to know how many hours had passed by now, how many hours it took to fix Zoro’s wounds this time. Somehow, I feared that looking at the time would make the situation more real and even harder to deal with.

So in the end I guessed that Robin arrived in the early morning hours and quickly went to Franky for a long, gentle looking hug.

She quickly explained that she was done with her statement and had brought some important evidence to the police while Shanks and Garp submitted the rest of it. Law would probably give his own statement tomorrow, as he was the last one to bring physical evidence, afterwards all of us should follow as we were already more than a little involved in the case.

Then she asked after Zoro’s wellbeing and all of us gave a collective shrug. “We haven’t heard from him yet.”

“I guessed as much, it will probably take them a whole while to stitch everything up and check him out. You shouldn’t worry, he’ll be fine.” She tried to calm us, but didn’t bring any of the injuries up, so it didn’t really work.

After that it was quite again and the dark-haired doctor laid down with her head cushioned in Franky’s lap. What a lucky bastard to have a wife like this.

I took another smoke break and submitted everyone with breakfast. It was still early, so it was shitty take away, but everything was better than being hungry and stressed out and they ate gratefully.

The last one to appear was Shanks. He quickly excused Garp’s absence, but the man was at home with those three kids of his. They were terrorizing the retired policeman with questions about the case and their sensei, so he really couldn’t be here. Not that anyone would hold it against him in the first place, especially with knowing how Luffy, Ace and Sabo could be.

Around nine Law opened the door, followed by a nurse, holding a clipboard for him. He looked tired on a level that had nothing to do with the fact that he had just been awake for what was close to forty-eight hours and working for at least twelve of them. He looked emotionally tired out and that was more than a little worrying considering his patient was also his friend.

“How is he?” Perona was in front of him instantly and the young doctor’s discomfort intensified visibly, so I quickly got up and pulled the worried younger sister back a step, muttering softly. “Give him some space.” I advised her and she let me, knowing herself that she was probably stressing Law out, but unable to hold back on her own.

“Medically speaking Zoro-ya’s on a good way. The treatment of his injuries went well and it doesn’t look like any complications aside from his concussion will appear. He doesn’t want to talk to me though. Or to anyone else for the matter.” He explained with a defeated expression, as if it was somehow his fault.

The nurse at his side piped up at that. “He’s been asking for Nami.” She said and the redhead by my side didn’t look surprised, while his adopted family wore grim expressions.

“Did he say anything about the police? His statement?” Shanks interjected, an unfamiliarly serious tone painting his voice. “He doesn’t want to give a statement.” The nurse answered calmly. “He needs to, there will be an investigation anyways, even if the victim doesn’t want to press charges because of the scale of violence used by Bones. He’s not getting out of this one.”

“Yes, he will eventually have to give a statement, but not as long as he’s still recovering and receiving painkillers.” Law squashed the police officer’s words. “You can’t force him to, at least not while he’s still here.”

Shanks looked ready to bash in heads for a second, but in the end had to admit that the doctor was right and just sighed. “Okay, no statement for now, I get it. But he should at least see his family.”

“He was insistent that he wants nobody in his room with the exceptions of medical personnel and Nami.” The nurse once again said firmly.

Perona looked about ready to cry but instead turned towards the redheaded woman. “Please, if he wants to see you, you should go. Make sure he’s alright and tell him we love him no matter what.” The younger sister tried to sound fierce, it was obvious in the trembling of her voice, but in the end she just sounded miserable. She probably wanted nothing more right now than to hug her brother after months of not seeing or even hearing from him, but she still managed to put Zoro’s wishes first and accepted that he wasn’t ready to see them just yet.

Nami nodded grimly and went with the nurse. “I will.” Determination wasn’t a strong enough word to describe her with right now, but it was the only one that came to my exhausted mind.  
She didn’t need to hear about all the injuries Zoro suffered, she had seen them first hand.

Law tried to be gentle while explaining the extent of injuries and treatment, but it was still painful.

There were seventy-five stitches holding Zoro’s inner thigh together, as well as old wounds on his arm that needed to be restitched after being ripped open again. He had his nose and a rib broken, honestly, the cheekbone looked like a close call with all the swelling in his face, deep bruising covering about every inch of his body. His shoulder was secured in a sling for now, it should heal fine, as well as the old headwound and concussion. His eye was unsalvageable though. The scarring should be minimal due to surgical glue and even more fine stitches, but losing an eye had sever healthcare consequences Zoro needed to learn about.

All in all Zoro was a healthy young man, he’d recover, Law was sure of that, the thing they actually had to look out for was psychological damage. That he wasn’t willing to talk to anyone, or even see his beloved sister was evident of that.

Robin easily agreed to that assessment. “We should probably ask him if he’s comfortable with us as his doctors. We both known him well, that would definitely help, but giving him a choice in this is more important.” She continued and Law gave her a pointed look.

“It’s obvious that he’s uncomfortable with me as well as any therapist this place has to offer. We already tried that when he was here for the first time. He still needs someone to treat him.” He sounded agitated and looked it as well, tattooed fingers ruffling dark hair all along.

“I guessed as much, but I also think he’d be even more uncomfortable with a stranger right now. I hope he’ll talk to me. He doesn’t really know I also have a psychological degree.” She offered back and the other doctor nodded sagely. “Yeah, keep it that way, he’ll shut down the second you mention therapist.” He answered gruffly and finally turned.

“I need to go home and sleep. Sorry, I don’t know when he’ll come around and want to see you.” He mumbled a little desperately before saying his goodbyes. I dearly hoped he would sleep, or at least let himself be comforted by Chopper. That kid had a way of cheering everyone up, even gloomy and dark Law.

I let myself sink down into a chair again and so did everyone else. No one was ready to leave just yet, even though all of us instinctively knew it would take some time until Nami was done talking Zoro out of whatever this was.


	10. Please, just talk to someone, anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is Nami's POV of what she finds when going for a patched up Zoro.
> 
> If you want to make me really happy, write some comments for me :3

I felt conflicted the second the nurse mentioned that Zoro hadn’t allowed anyone into his room except for me.

On one hand it wasn’t exactly surprising. Zoro was hurt in a horrible way, it looked like Daz hadn’t just been willing to risk his boyfriend’s death while losing his temper this time, but had actually planned on killing him. Bones had literally locked the door and cut off his only escape route, hidden away the key if Zoro’s inability to unlock it was anything to go by, so in the end the police had to break it down.

The young swordsman always struggled with admitting he was hurt and instead chose to hide it. That was considerably more difficult when covered in bandages and bruises, hooked up to IV’s and monitors of all kind in a hospital bed. He probably didn’t want to be seen like this, especially because this was not an injury received in an honourable battle. At least in his own eyes…

I knew the green haired man well, ever since we were little kids, longer than anyone else here. So I also knew he was ashamed.

On the other hand, I had dearly hoped that Zoro would understand, since we all came for him the second, he called for us, that there was no real reason to be ashamed. That he knew we still wanted to be near him, no matter what Daz told him to get him to break contact with his friends and family.

I was glad that he at least accepted my presence, I was glad that he still considered me his emergency safety line after we barely even spoke in the last year and called for help, that he let me see his hurt.

But that he didn’t want to let anyone else see meant that he believed the lies that man told him about others, but mostly about himself somewhere deep down and that was fucking scary…

I was practically jogging to keep pace with the nurse while my thoughts circled around all my fears and worries, that had been growing ever since Daz Bones became part of our lives.

And then we finally reached the door and the young woman looked hesitant before meeting my eyes. “If he doesn’t want to talk, try not to push him for now. He’s in pain and really stressed right now, the concussion and medicaments probably aren’t helping. He’s confused, not himself, so just… Be careful.” She advised in a soft tone, that made me wonder what had taken place in that room when he first woke up and saw Law.  
Something bad according to her reaction now, not that I’d ask, it wasn’t the right time for that, so I just nodded.

The room was silent except for the rhythmical beeping of a heart monitor when I entered. Zoro was more or less sitting, leaned on the headboard, propped up with two pillows so his arm could rest in the sling as comfortably as possible.

His left side was facing the door, so I couldn’t really tell what he was looking at, all I could think of for a second was the sickening amount of blood running down my friend’s face, where his left eye should’ve been. Now there was a thickly wrapped bandage. No more blood, everything looked pristine and sterile, except for the ugly black and blue bruises sneaking along his visible skin.

I stepped closer, letting the door fall shut behind me loud enough to get Zoro to turn his head a little. The closer I got the more obvious it became that the young man was wounded beyond cuts and broken bones.

His skin had lost it’s natural bronze colour. He looked sickly pale, lying in that hospital bed, swathed in white, like he hadn’t been out in the sun for weeks. There was a dark bag beneath his one remaining eye, that had nothing to do with bruises but with a lack of rest that was very unlike Zoro, who valued his naps above most other things. His cheek and collarbones stuck out more than I remembered, even his shoulders were weirdly bony beneath his all of his bulk.

Other than looking at me he didn’t even acknowledge my presence, he just sat there, an empty husk of the fierce warrior I remembered him as since our first meeting in the orphanage.

I pulled a chair over and sat myself down on his good side, so he didn’t have to turn his head anymore. That couldn’t be comfortable, especially not with the finger shaped marks covering his neck and throat. I reached for his hand slowly, leaving him with more than enough time to pull his hand away if he didn’t want to be touched, but he let me, so I held his hand in silence.

For a while neither of us did or said anything, just watched the world go on as every other normal day in front of the window.

After what was probably around half an hour later Zoro swallowed thickly, clearing his throat more than once, probably gathering the courage to say something, so I turned back to face him.

“Thanks.” Was the only thing he croaked out at first, I squeezed his hand a little harder. “I didn’t even do anything.” I answered sheepishly, and suddenly there was that little smirk on his face that was so totally Zoro, that I couldn’t help but to feel relieved. “I’m still alive. You promised, and you made it work.”

I laughed and at the same time I felt tears sliding down my face. I hastily scrubbed them away with my sleeve, apologizing softly all along. “Shit, sorry, you probably asked for me because you thought I wouldn’t fucking cry like a little girl.”

He gave a one sided shrug at that, probably thinking about his sister, who would be bawling the second she laid eyes on him.

“S’fine, gave you a big scare after all. I’m sorry I called.” He muttered back at me and I couldn’t help the angry expression that annihilated the tears within seconds. I let go of his hand, instead taking his wrist and shaking his arm as hard as I was comfortable with while seeing all the bandages on him.

“What the fuck Zoro! Don’t say stupid shit like that, I’m so glad you called! Of course I was scared, I thought I was about to lose my best friend! You were fucking crying and panicked and told me your boyfriend was going to kill you! But you called, and I could call for help and you’re safe now, you understand that, right? That I love you and that you’re safe? You may be an idiot moss, but you’re not a burden…”

And wow, way to go Nami, because now he looked like he was about to cry. The nurse would probably strangle me now if she knew after specifically warning me about not pressuring him because he was more than a little unstable right now. I grit my teeth and facepalmed in front of my inner eye, keeping my cool as best as I could for Zoro’s sake.

“We all love you Zoro. Your dad and your sister, Usopp, Sanji and me, Law and Chopper, your kids at the dojo, and all the new friends you made. Hell, you were in such a shitty place and you still managed to find great people like Robin and Brook on your side. Whatever he told you, he lied.”

“I know.” He whispered back, carefully wiggling his hand out of my finger so he could cover his one good eye with it. He couldn’t stop the thick fat tears that leaked from beneath his palm though.

“I know you’re good people, I know that, and that’s exactly why I’m scared… I’m not. I’m not good at anything, all I can do is hold a sword, and look where that got me. I’m such a disappointment. I made Mihawk and Perona cry so much already, I don’t want them to see me like this, I don’t want them to cry because of me.”

It looked like there was so much more Zoro wanted to say, but after two sobs he fell quiet once again. The tears were still falling, but there wasn’t another sound, not even his shoulders hitched while he was having a fucking breakdown, that’s how much control the swordsman had over himself.

So my suspicions were true, Zoro felt guilty and shamed. And he didn’t look like he’d calm down any time soon either, at least not by himself. “Is there anything I can do?” I asked him soft enough not to startle him, but firm enough to ensure him that I wasn’t pitying him. Zoro hated few things more than pity, even though he certainly looked like he could use some right now.

“My phone?” He asked after a while of deep breathing. His voice sounded nearly normal, he was just much more quiet than normal for him, lacking his naturally commanding tone.

I nodded and quickly found it in the single cabinet of the room. Usually there would be all personal belongings, but Zoro had nothing on him except for his clothes and his phone when he was brought in, the former were definitely ruined beyond repair and trashed, but his phone looked fine when I handed it over.

He struggled a little with the code, unused to typing with one hand even though he was practically ambidextrous, but then he quickly opened his gallery and pulled up several pictures of a small black dog with short, scraggly hair.

Zoro’s love for dogs was like the worst kept secret in the whole wide world. The usually grumpy swordsman practically melted whenever he came across a canine, petting and cooing all along. Showing him dog videos was a sure way of cheering him up on most days, but those weren’t some random funny pictures from the internet, those looked self-made.

Well, that dog did seem to calm Zoro down, or at least distracted him from his breakdown, so it was probably a safe topic to talk about for now, I tried to engage him in a conversation.

“Who’s that?” I asked him and didn’t have to fake my curiosity at all. “Shusui.” Zoro answered, still staring at the pictures. “He’s cute. What breed is he?”

“Not a breed, a mix. He lives in the shelter.” He explained shortly and I nodded, inspecting the pictures for myself. “You took him for walks?”  
“No, I took him home for a week, but… It didn’t really work out.” He admitted, looking pained and I decided to be careful about my next question.

“Why? Did he bite or something? You didn’t have enough time?” At first Zoro only gave an awkward shrug again before putting the phone down. “No, he was a very good dog, but Daz… He lied, he doesn’t even like dogs, so I had to bring him back.”

The green haired man looked sad, but at least he was past his breakdown by now. To be honest, he just looked tired out. “Why don’t you tell me a little about him, I never had any pets.” I steered him back to the joy he apparently still felt when remembering the presence of the dog.

Zoro looked pissed at first, obviously aware of what I was doing, but in the end, he couldn’t refuse the comfort of talking about the cute little animal and all it’s funny antics. We talked until another nurse knocked on the door and did a few small checks before giving Zoro another dose of painkillers. That quickly knocked him out.

He slept past noon and I used the time to text the others, quickly explaining that they should go home, it would still take a whole while until Zoro was ready to meet anyone else.

I could guess that they probably argued about staying, but after hours and hours of waiting there really was nothing else to do, but to go home. I hoped they were doing okay, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the spot next to Zoro.

He didn’t even look relaxed while he was sleeping, curled close to his knees, around his injured arm protectively, defensively, half upright. There was nothing of the sprawling posture he usually preferred while napping wherever. It wasn’t like I could protect him, not from Daz, not from himself, but I was afraid to leave him nonetheless, so I didn’t move from my spot, guarding him to the best of my abilities.

Zoro woke up abruptly, and practically jumped to his feet until pain cursed through his body and he crumpled back into the soft sheets. A nightmare.

His hand was trembling where it clutched his bandaged thigh, but other than that there was no acknowledgement to either pain or panic, so I carefully touched his knee to break him out of it. He met my eyes shortly, looked back down and carefully let go, lying down more comfortably afterwards.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked him even though I had seen the shake of his head coming.

“You missed lunch. Should I get you something to eat?” I changed the topic and the tense expression on his face softened. “Yeah, I’m starving.” So I quickly ran for the cafeteria and brought him some fried rice and tea, he scarfed it down to the last grain and I couldn’t help myself, smiling all along.

He looked ready to fall asleep again by the time he was done, but there were a lot of questions whirring through my mind.

“Do you want to talk to anyone else? Someone from the dojo, or maybe your sister?” I asked him softly. “No.”

“Don’t get me wrong Zoro, I’m glad that you rely on me, I’m glad that you call me your best friend, and you are mine, I love you, but I’m scared. Daz manipulated and hurt you for a long time, he nearly killed you more than once, it’s not healthy to not talk about things like that. You don’t need to talk to a therapist if you don’t want to, but talk to anyone, your dad, your friends, please…”

“I’m fine.” He simply answered, not even vaguely looking in my direction. “You’re not, just look at yourself. And that’s okay, it’s okay to not be fine for once, that’s not going to change the way we look at you, you’re so strong. We’re going to help you, but for that, you need to talk.” I insisted.

Zoro was silent for a long time and when he finally opened his mouth to say something it looked like the words just kept tumbling out without any conscious thought behind it. Like a dam had been broken.

“I know. I just… I just feel so useless. It took me so long to understand what he was even doing, that he’d been lying from the start and wanted to hurt me. He constructed our relationship for only that reason. I was so fucking stupid, even though everyone tried to warn me… He enjoyed it. He loved it when I let him do whatever, when I was scared, I was never… I was never scared before, but he’s… I can’t get him out of my head.”

He was growling and hissing and angry, and never before had I been so happy about an angry Zoro, because anger meant his hatred was bigger than his fear. I pat his good cheek carefully and he flinched violently, shaking himself out of his rant and looking ashamed as soon as he was calm again.

“Why don’t you tell the police about that?” I asked and he was shrinking back into himself again, unable to speak up and just shaking his head.

“You only realized that when it was too late right? When he was already attacking, so you called me. What changed? What did he do that made you realize?” I continued my line of questions.

Zoro looked smaller than ever after I asked him, gritting his teeth, hiding behind his knees and folded arms, like back when we were kids, sitting in a secluded tree, blocking everything out.

“It was okay when he hit me. I can take that, I’m not fragile.” There was so much wrong with that statement, but now was not the time to think about it, so I pushed that information to the back of my mind for now.

“It was okay when he lied and ignored me too, but he kept pushing and tearing even when I felt like there was nothing left to give, I always felt like I was never enough for him, so I let him take whatever he wanted. He pushed me down, he liked seeing me on my knees. I think that was when I finally realized that that, was the ONLY thing he liked about me from the very start, that I let him do that. He never loved me.”

“So yeah, I let him do that, it was my own fucking fault, I’m not… I’m not going to cry to the police because of my own stupidity! I just… It’s fine now, I just want to drop it and go back to the Dojo.”

“And never see your family again because of your shame?” I provoked him, but it looked like Zoro was done with talking now. Now and maybe forever if his stoic expression was anything to go by, the floodgates once again firmly shut. 

“That’s not how it works Zoro, you know that. Daz is dangerous, he’d do that to someone else the second you’re no longer around. They need your statement. Just… think about it. You’d be protecting others, if you tell the police they’ll make sure Daz will never harm another person like he hurt you.”

Zoro didn’t answer, but the look in the remaining grey eye was stormy, deep in thought it seemed. Good.

Before anything else could happen, an unknown doctor entered the room and sent me outside for more thorough check-ups, wound cleaning and fresh bandages, two nurses in tow. When I came back the swordsman was already fast asleep again.

This went on for a few days. Zoro barely talked. No wonder, he spent most of his time asleep or in pain. I didn’t bring any of it up again, and not just because the nurse always gave me the stink eye when she suspected her patient was upset because of something I said or did.

Zoro agreed to continue his treatment with Law, although their conversation was strictly professional for now, nothing even hinted at the fact that they were friends.

Nobody visited, our group wisely accepting that he didn’t want to see anyone just yet. Until Zoro himself suddenly brought the subject up. “How… How is everyone doing?” And I told him as best as I could after not actually having seen anyone but him and Usopp since then.

Of course I knew the most about Usopp because we literally live together, sharing our flat and all that, so we talked about him for a while and my friend looked weirdly uncomfortable all along. “Does he.. Does he maybe want to come here? Like I totally get it if he won’t, were not exactly the best of friends..”

“Of course he wants to! He’s been asking about you every evening! And I know you don’t talk that much, but you get along great!” I quickly assured him even though I had no idea what brought this sudden interest into my nervous roommate up. Or the unfamiliar self-doubt that radiated off Zoro while talking about this.

So on the next day Usopp visited Zoro and I couldn’t even imagine what they talked about, but finally Zoro agreed to meeting everyone else, even his madly crying sister. When I asked Usopp about it he just shook his head and I accepted for myself that I probably didn’t even want to know, I should just be glad that Usopp of all people found the right words.


	11. Of trust and consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Usopp POV, and I've waited on writing him for a long while :)
> 
> I actually like this chapter, I hope you do too! Thanks to everyone who's leaving comments, kudos and bookmarks, it always makes my day. If you don't want to miss any of my updates, subscribe, but I try to update every Wednesday from now on xD

I always thought getting to know Zoro was kind of hard. I only met him once we were adults, unlike most of our other friends, who knew him for years prior, but I couldn’t say for sure that this was the only reason for our rocky start.

Zoro just was… very hard to read. He was always so silent and when he wasn’t? He was fucking loud, and frankly, a little bit scary. He had a commanding tone in his voice, no matter what he said, a no bullshit attitude few people could have worked out like the swordsman did.

But that was cool, he fit right into our rambunctious little group, to be honest? I always felt a little like I was the odd one out, the newcomer, even though I literally shared a living space with Nami, even though we always had topics to talk about where Zoro logically speaking should’ve been the odd one out. University, jobs, politics, things the moss head had no interest in, and still…

Because Sanji, Nami and Zoro were all explosive personalities in my eyes, strong headed and stubborn, their goals always fixed in their eyes, they completed each other in a very unique way.

I wasn’t anything like that, not at all. Sure, I like to pretend, I bluff and show off with great deeds, that I have never done, that I’d be too scared to try. I play the hero and the cool guy. Not that any of them believe that, they’re not that naïve, but it’s fun. Nami and Sanji both enjoy the banter and stories I pull out of my vast imagination.

I couldn’t tell what Zoro thought about my lies or my jokes though. He rarely ever smiles, his laugh only ever shows itself whenever Sanji did something especially stupid after his numerous provocations.

Other than that? I thought Zoro had to be a very serious person. He was grumpy and quick to anger. I was scared to speak up when first witnessing one of his angry outbursts, one of the many many fights he had with Sanji. They even got physical, trying to kick and punch each other!

I learned fast, that this was a normal occurrence and still, somehow they never actually harmed each other. They were friends, and Zoro valued his friends above all else. He’d protect them with his life and on some occasions he actually did just that.

Usually Sanji was the chivalrous knight of our friend group, he constantly fawned over Nami and she, in turn, accepted this treatment from him and only from him. So naturally the blond cook normally stepped up whenever an unwanted advancer got too close for comfort.

But when he wasn’t around Zoro took on his place without comment. He punched a man a head taller even than himself straight out of the nearest window when he touched Nami at a bar once and took his whole gang that came after him with ease.

The swordsman was strong, intimidatingly so. He carried drunk Sanji on one arm, his biceps bulging and bigger than my whole leg. He looked like a graceful killer with a sword in hand, I always thought of a tiger when I saw him fight. And he won every single fight.

In the end I learned the green haired man and I shared more traits than I expected when first getting to know him. Both of us lived behind a carefully constructed façade.

His was that of the quiet and stoic swordsman and mine was the confident inventor. Both of us tried to hide our insecurities that way, and both of us failed miserably on most days.

Well, my lies were definitely more obvious than his, because Zoro’s façade was still partially the truth, but at his core he was uncomfortable around strangers, so he hid his snarky and fun side, that part of him that loved hearing my stories and dogs and naps.

With anyone else I’d probably call it sever trust issues, which wasn’t off, I knew Zoro was adopted and his real father kind of abandoned him or something like that, but with him it didn’t feel right to use that particular word.

Zoro did trust people, but when he did, he put all of his trust in them, it just took a lot of time and work on your part for him to reach that point, so yes, it was a little hard to really get to know him, but it was definitely worth the effort.

Cause when you finally reach his friendship, he’s like the best friend ever. He doesn’t give verbal reassurances, but he’s someone that watches your every move, knows when you’re insecure about something without asking and gives a patient little nod when you are looking at him, that says more than words ever could.

And in turn you trust every single thing Zoro does. When he gives you that nod, that says you’re doing good, you can rely on the fact that you actually are doing it right.

He can listen for hours and he will never share your secrets, not even with Nami. She finds a way to bribe everyone, except for Zoro, an incredible debt looming over his head, that his best friend will never cash in.

He himself offers few words, but when he does, they are always meaningful. He’d never dismiss someone he shared his trust with, his friendship.  
As far as I knew it was impossible to fight with him for anyone other than Sanji, at least as soon as you’re considered his friend.

So when it slowly came to light that his boyfriend of all people didn’t appreciate these traits… No what am I talking about, Daz trampled all these hidden sides Zoro bared for him to see with his feet as far as I could tell. It was grotesque and shocking and it had me throwing up with anxiety, because perhaps I understood what was going on in the swordsman’s life better than all of our shared friends together.

Not that I ever faced abuse, thank god, but that was exactly what Zoro was going through right now, even when the others refused to accept this harsh truth at first.

But for me it was so obvious that Zoro had gifted this man with his unfailing trust and that was the exact reason why he was unable to simply leave. For an outsider it always looked so simple… If he treats you badly, just leave. But it’s never that easy, especially not with Zoro, who loves and trusts so deeply.

I felt so fucking bad about all of this, but what could I do? I texted Zoro a few times, but a few weeks into not seeing the group anymore he stopped answering most of us.

He reacted badly when confronted, all of us knew that and I refused to put more pressure on him when nobody really knew what was going on in his life anymore.

It wasn’t like we could just march in there and save him. Well, Sanji probably could’ve, at least physically speaking, I though would’ve been a joke standing between the two sportive muscle mountains that were Roronoa Zoro and Daz Bones. But it wasn’t that easy anyways. Zoro needed to come to the conclusion first, that he actually wanted to leave.

It took him a long time to reach that breaking point. He was patient and enduring. Nearly dying twice in the span of a single month finally did the trick it seemed.

All of us spent a long night in the hospital, waiting for news on his condition, only to end up with a particularly stressed Law announcing that he didn’t want to see any of us except for Nami.

In one way I was glad he decided on that because I knew he would’ve been massively overwhelmed with facing all of us at once after months of not seeing his friends and family.

He was unstable enough as is, the last thing he needed right now was people crying on him. He probably felt guilty as hell without that, I could tell even though I hadn’t laid eyes on him yet. It was better this way. Nami was his best friend after all, she knew him the longest, she could help him, right?

I asked her every evening, when she came home after spending her days at the hospital, how Zoro was doing. For days her answer was the same. “He’s recovering.” As opaque as possible while also trying to lessen my worries. It didn’t do much in that regard, but at least it was something.

And then, suddenly, she asked me if I’d like to visit him. And of course I scrambled to say yes, but at the same time I wanted to ask, why me?

We were friends, good friends, I’d lay my life in his steady, sword wielding hands any time, but he hadn’t seen anyone else. Not Sanji, who he was very close to, not Chopper or any of the other kids he adored so much, not Robin, who was literally his doctor before this, not even his family, and even a blind man could tell how much he loved Mihawk and Perona. So why did the injured man want to see me out of all these people?

Nami didn’t know either, but there was no way I’d let him down after he invited me in first, so on the next day I went to the hospital instead of my usual lecture at the university.

I bought a nice cup of green tea in the cafeteria before heading upstairs. I was nervous, more so than I should be in my own regards, but I couldn’t help it. When I finally knocked the tea was still warm enough and Zoro’s usual steady voice called me inside.

I tried to smile, but I felt my lips tremble the second I got a full view of all the bandages wrapped around the tall form of my friend. Even though Law had told us about his condition, especially about the eye, it was still shocking. It was so much worse than any of the injures he had received while fighting.

For a moment we stared at each other in silence until I managed to swallow the spit that gathered underneath my tongue at the nauseating sight. “Hey Zoro, how are you doing? I brought you tea.” I stuttered out and quickly sat myself down on the lone chair at his bedside.

Zoro nodded, his usual way of greeting the people who knew he preferred non verbal actions over words. “Thank you. It’s alright.” He simply said and took the warm cup from my hands, taking a few sips to occupy himself.

Looking him over again I thought he was anything but alright, but who was I to judge? It wasn’t like I knew what a gash in my leg or a dislocated shoulder felt like, but Zoro was a myriad of bruises and bandages and even though he obviously tried to look relaxed I could tell that his face was strained behind the cup of tea he was sipping from.

Half of his fucking face was swathed in bandages, tape holding gauze in place and small brown flecks of old blood and disinfectant peeking from beneath it. Next to the stark white of all that Zoro looked pale, sallow even.

The skin was stretching uncomfortably tight over his cheekbone and his strong jawline. He looked like he lost weight, lots of it, but Zoro was never a person that had any weight to lose, he was all muscle and bronze skin as far as I could remember.

He was undoubtedly the same man as before, still muscled beyond what I could ever dream of for myself, strong and healthy, but he also had a completely new air around him. Something fragile. Something broken.

The realization nearly had me tucking in my tail and running, because honestly, Zoro was the strongest person I knew, I always thought of him as unbreakable, as a broad back you could lean on and if necessary, hide behind.

To see the amazing swordsman reduced to this was painful and scary beyond measure. It instinctively made me ask myself: If someone like him can be hurt like this, what is going to happen to a weakling like you? The world will chew you up and spit you out, because even he can’t protect you.

How did Nami handle coming in here every day only to see her best friend like this? I already felt like crying after barely even five minutes of taking in all the damage…

That’s the moment Zoro chose to speak up. “You don’t have to stay. Don’t worry, I understand.” He said it in a somber tone, but somehow he still managed to keep all accusations out of it, like saying I’m not angry that you can’t look at me like this. It was Zoro’s way of saying I am sorry for disappointing you.

And that was even more shocking than the injuries, because somehow Zoro saw himself at fault for this mess, that made me want to cry my eyes out. As if I’d cry because he was too weak to protect himself and by extension, us. Zoro was anything but weak, everyone knew that.

I watched him put the cup down with his one working arm and for the first time really managed to meet his lone, steel grey eye.

“I do want to stay. Actually, I’m glad that you invited me, why do you think I’d come if I didn’t truly want to be here?” I asked him, keeping my own tone neutral. This was important, I couldn’t fuck this up as the first person he invited back into his life after the train wreck that had been Daz Bones.

My counterpart’s eye quickly lost my stare, instead began to wander through the small room around us aimlessly. He shrugged with his one good shoulder.

“I want you to know that I’m not sad because of you. Well, of course I am, but not because of anything you did. I’m sad because of what he did to you. I’m scared FOR you. I’m so sad about seeing you like this, but nothing that happened was your fault. Do you understand that?”

I knew that my words couldn’t be enough to simply erase all the guilt that had been simmering inside the swordsman for months now, nobody could give him his confidence, his happiness or trust back with simple words like that, but it was an important first step in my eyes.

Often people forgot to tell things like that because they thought it was obvious enough through their actions that nobody was angry with Zoro, but when people are insecure, they often don’t get the message, so sometimes it’s easier to just tell them. Even if you end up repeating yourself over and over. At least that was something I could help him with, right? Finally a good side to being an insecure little liar, right?

It looked like the words took a long while to sink in with the wounded swordsman, because for minutes he was absolutely still, staring at his own lap like a statue.

In the end there was a minuscule shake of his head. And wow, that was like a blow to the face from Bones himself. I took a deep breath, held it for eight seconds and breathed it back out equally slow. Now was not the time to get anxious.

“Okay.” I simply stated. “That’s okay, we’ll work it out. But first I promise to you, nobody is angry with you. Or disappointed. I get it if you don’t believe that, I’m known for my lies after all, but in a few weeks, you’ll understand what I’m trying to tell you.” I explained softly.

Zoro hesitated for another second, until be finally looked back up from the stark white sheets covering his lap. He gave no indication of hearing or even understanding other than that, put picked the cup back up again, taking more sips of calming tea.

“Alright.” I mumbled to myself, the atmosphere still thick, but not nearly as suffocating anymore.

“Did you… Do you want to talk about something specific? Or was there another reason why you asked me to come here first?” I asked the green haired man softly after he looked a little more like himself again, his posture slightly slouched.

The swordsman actually looked a little startled at that, the face a kid would pull while getting caught snatching a chocolate bar from the shop.

Once again, he hesitated. Before, Zoro would never have thought twice about stating his mind. He always spoke when there was something he really wanted to say, but now it looked like he struggled with getting the reason for meeting me off his chest.

I refused to feel pity, knowing the man in question would absolutely hate that, instead I watched patiently how he tried to come up with the right words.

“I just… We’re friends, right?” It was an old insecurity, that probably plagued Zoro for a long time. Zoro who was a natural loner and Zoro who barely had any friends according to Nami, before meeting all of us. I could tell, because I often thought of it too.

It had probably been somewhere in the back of his mind for a long time, but I was sure Daz found a way to dig into it and drag those thoughts out until Zoro felt like he couldn’t even talk to us anymore, hence, cutting all of his social contacts that weren’t Daz approved down to a minimum.

“Of course we are.” I answered, knowing that Zoro would probably appreciate a straight forward answer over any grand speech I could conjure up right now.

He nodded, a brief flash of relieve crossing his taut features. “Are you… Were you ever…” He paused and swallowed thickly, his gaze staying fixed on the wall behind me. “Scared of me?” He finished, his voice dropping even lower until it was barely even audible over the beeping of the heart monitor still attached to him.

At that I carefully reached out and ended up softly touching his good elbow. “I’m not gonna lie to you.” I assured him quickly and after a second he met my eyes again. “I was a little scared when I first met you. You are a pretty scary guy though, big and strong, and you don’t talk too much, you know? You’re really scary when you get angry. But… That was a long time ago Zoro. Everyone who really knows you understands that you’re not scary at all. You’re protective and strong an all around awesome. So no, I’m not scared of you.”

“I’m always grateful when you’re around. Actually, you make me feel less scared nowadays, because I know, no one will try to hurt me when you are there.”  
I answered his question with a bright grin, ignoring the anger that tried to build up when thinking of all the lies Daz probably sprouted to get him to really believe all this crap.

I lied often, but I made a point to keep my lies from harming anyone, Zoro’s ex made a point to do the opposite it seemed, and it made me fucking angry, but more anger and hurt weren’t the things our friend needed right now.

Zoro needed kind words and friends with a lot of patience, love and trust.

The injured man quickly put his cup down again to cover his face with his good hand, massaging the bridge of his nose right above the little crook, that indicated a recent break. He looked like he was trying to fight an oncoming migraine or something and I winced sympathetically.

“Do you… Do you need anything? Water, painkillers? Should I get a nurse?” I asked him quickly, but Zoro just shook his head slightly. “No.. No I’m fine, I’m just a fucking idiot, is all.” He growled back at me and I smiled at the bit of growly and grouchy Zoro that began to show.

“Sure.” I agreed easily. “But I can still call for a nurse if you need something?” I assured him and couldn’t stop the bit of worry creeping into my voice.

“Nah, I’m good. Another hour or so before I get the good stuff anyways.” He said, declining with a knowing smile. “Good.” I grinned back at him.

“So, how’s university going?” Zoro asked, looking way more at ease now that his long-suffering insecurities were put to rest for the time being and quickly changed the topic away from himself. Zoro was always more comfortable with listening then actually talking, and who was I to withhold him some comfort in these rough times?

So I talked about all the lighthearted things that came to my mind. It wasn’t hard, because my studies were going good, so was my still pretty fresh relationship with Kaya, I didn’t have any major fights with Nami. Except for Zoro sitting here, looking like death warmed over, everything in my life was going fine for once.

And I definitely couldn’t tell him that he was the reason for more than one pretty recent anxiety attack, so I quickly pulled some funny stories out of my sleeves when the real good news ended.

Zoro was calm the entire time, he didn’t say much, but that was normal for him. He looked relaxed, even a little, dare say, happy and I was glad I could at least do that for him.

Just like the swordsman predicted, an hour into our talk a nurse came by and handed him a cup of pills, which he swallowed gratefully, he was probably in a lot of pain, even while just lounging around all day.

He got a little sleepy afterwards, but told me to stay, to keep talking and I did until the sun was beginning to set.

Zoro looked a little more awake again, fiddling with his bandages absentmindedly by the time I finished my last story. I tried for casual when I finally decided to ask him something.  
“So, now you heard what our lot was up to the whole time. Do you want to talk a little about your time with Daz?”

The green haired man didn’t really react at first, then shook his head a little as if to clear his own mind.

“He lied a lot.” He settled on saying and I felt like something inside of me was shriveling up and slowly dying at the void of emotion Zoro currently emanated. “He was an asshole. And I was stupid enough to fall for him.” He continued bitterly before shaking his head more vehemently.

“But it’s fine. The dojo is going great. Well, was before… you know.” He gestured towards his bandaged face, well aware that I knew of the first time Daz nearly ended up killing him. I just sighed, because there was too much to entangled there, so that was something we all had to deal with later, when he was at least feeling a little better about himself.

“Don’t you want to tell the police what was going on? They already started a case. Like, he’s not getting out of a trial, the police can’t just let someone go who tried to murder someone else.” I suggested carefully, but Zoro was already resolutely staring out of the window again.

“I don’t need a fucking trial.” He insisted and I bit down on my bottom lip. “I know, but do you feel comfortable with Daz going around as a free man? People like him? They don’t just stop. Even though he can’t hurt you anymore, he’ll just go looking for somebody else.”

“I know that!” The swordsman finally snapped. “I know that, but I… I can’t… I don’t want… I’m…” He looked frustrated and embarrassed, so I quickly laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s cool if you’re not ready yet, no one is pushing you. But maybe… Talk to someone? It’s nice that Nami and I come to visit, right? Don’t you want to meet the others too? Or your sister? I bet you missed her and Mihawk pretty bad. Remember, nobody is angry with you or disappointed.”

Zoro looked to be somewhere between embarrassed and angry, but in the end gave a careful nod. “Alright. They can come visit, but… I don’t want to talk about him.” He insisted and I couldn’t really hold it against him.

“That’s good. I’ll tell them tomorrow. How about you text Nami who you want to see first? I know that all of us together can be a little much to handle.” I told him calmly and for once it looked like Zoro couldn’t help the anxiety both of us shared from time to time, the understanding between the both of us.

He nodded curtly. “You should rest some more, you look tired.” I advised before saying my goodbyes.

“Usopp?” He asked when I was already standing by the door and I quickly turned back to face him. “Thanks for coming.” He finally said with a calm that was exactly the Zoro all of us knew and loved so much.

I left grinning and feeling about ten pounds lighter. I didn’t know what, but somehow it looked like I did something right, something that actually helped the swordsman gain back some of his strength. I slept well that night, knowing that Zoro would meet his family tomorrow, he’d feel better soon, I was sure of it.


	12. Fun fact: Therapy is hard work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Franky's POV! I just watched water 7/CP9 again recently, I just love him <3 He's here for some serious no bullshit talk though!!
> 
> Haha, yeah sorry, I'm late as always x'D I'll still try to update every Wednesday, but I'm bad with schedules, so don't worry if I'm late I'm not gone, just.. busy xD Next week will probably be late too, because of valentines day. I'm a florist, lol, lot's of work
> 
> If you like my work, consider leaving kudos, or comments, I love hearing feedback from you :3

Robin usually didn’t speak about her patients. Most of them were boring old people with too much money anyways, or just plain out asshole wannabe VIPs. Comes with working in a private clinic in the nice part of town. On most days she didn’t mind though, it meant more time to herself, her studies and a healthy relationship, which I as the partner in question, appreciated greatly.

According to that most of her days were stress free and boring, she always said there wasn’t much to talk about anyways, so we could spend more time discussing topics of interest instead of her work day.

That changed the second she met Roronoa Zoro, a young sportsman and her newest patient.

She thought about his situation a lot and couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself anymore at one point. The man was a mystery and Robin always had a knack for decrypting those. What kind of husband would I be, if I didn’t at least have an open ear for the concerns of my wife?

So I listened to all her theories, even the darker ones, without complaint and tried to calm her nerves as best as I could. She always viewed the world with a negativity unique to her.

But with every visit, every new injury her suspicions were beginning to look more realistic. Not that I ever doubted her skill as a doctor, but sometimes you just hope she ends up overthinking instead of dealing with a very real and very uncomfortable situation like this.

I truly felt sorry when thinking of Zoro at that point, because Robin described him as a very honorable and genuinely good person. Something she didn’t grace most people with, she could be brutally honest if she wanted to be.

It was no surprise when things ended badly, because even with his life on the line the swordsman hadn’t said a word, stayed loyal to the person most undeserving of his loyalty against all odds.

Luckily it didn’t end in the worst way possible. Even though Robin would never openly admit it, I feared that it’d destroy her if she couldn’t save her patient this time, because against all of her codex, it was obvious that she was attached in a way that was anything but purely professional.

I couldn’t hold it against her though, because in all of her tales Zoro did sound like a very amicable and quirky guy, especially for someone like the quiet and knowledgeable doctor I knew my wife to be.

Now, he was recovering. His injuries were sever according to both doctors involved in the green haired man’s treatment, but his body was going to heal just fine. The only thing he’d never gain back was his left eye, which was a lost cause the second Daz Bones sliced his handsome face with a kitchen knife. How fucked up was that…

The news were going crazy about this, vultures the media, I tell you that. Wild speculations, nothing concrete because the police kept all vital information back for the actual case, especially from all those dirty gossip rags, that had been oh so invested in the love life of Daz Bones up until now.

I really hoped the poor swordsman wouldn’t get wind of this racket around his person, it was the last possible thing he needed right now as far as I could tell.

His physical recovery was going without complications, but at the same time you could’ve said that he wasn’t actually getting any better.  
He refused to talk to anyone other than Law, and for medical reasons only, both of them shuffling awkwardly around each other, ignoring that they’d been friends this time last year, and Nami, his childhood friend, who had been at his side for all of this bloody mess.

He didn’t allow anyone to visit, not Robin, not his father nor sister, not his friends. Talking was essential for recovering, building prosthetics taught me that much about the human psych.

Getting better is a lot of work, especially because the actual healing process isn’t something physical. It takes place entirely in one’s head.

Losing a limb is a traumatic event, be it in war or by simple accident. A lot of the patients I dealt with over the years had symptoms of PTSD or other long lasting consequences of trauma. I had no doubt that Zoro was currently facing mental trauma that was much more dangerous than all of his wounds.

It was hard to think about what he went through because for me, it was impossible to imagine to be willing to hurt someone you truly love like that. It was just beyond me to understand abuse, I could never raise my hand to my wife. Because I love her. Something Bones obviously was unable to feel for anyone but himself.

Having to protect yourself from the person you love and trust, to be betrayed like that. I wouldn’t even dare to guess at how Zoro has to feel, especially because abuse is something that’s stigmatized onto woman or “weak” people.

Of course that’s bullshit, I dearly hoped the swordsman already knew that or his recovery would be that much harder, but it is kind of a tabu to speak of abuse with people like Zoro. Muscular, tall, strong…

Another reason why I prayed that he wouldn’t get confronted with all the shit the media spread about that and him, least of all those who were already trying to lighten the picture of Daz back up. They were even trying to justify what the boxer did and that was just wrong in so many ways.

In the end it took a whole week for Zoro to open up, little by little. He invited one of his friends over, long nosed kid, Usopp, I liked him, studying engineering and was impressed the second I explained to him what I did for a living.

After that other people were allowed to come too. First his father and his sister. He even met the new girlfriend. Afterwards the blond cook, Sanji, then Brook, Law even brought his kid over once.

People I didn’t really know too, Robin told me, like Sanji’s grumpy stepfather and Nami’s sister, people from Zoro’s Dojo. Robin herself wasn’t allowed to come for a long time, neither did he ever speak to the police, not even Shanks, who was a friend of his father and all…

He was going out of his way to not talk about anything important it seemed, because both the police and Robin would undoubtedly try to confront him about the abuse and the oncoming trial.

And on the day, he finally did let Robin close he was brash and bitter. “Don’t think I don’t know what you are trying to do. I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed or shit like that. I’m not some fucking damsel in distress, so if you want to come here again, leave the doctor attitude outside.” He told her.

Robin was fine with that. Well, of course she wasn’t, but she was good at pretending, and Zoro losing his temper with her was still better than silent or even meek Zoro in her opinion, so I let it slip for now.

Sadly, it wasn’t that easy. Robin couldn’t just stop being a psychologist or a doctor, which resulted in a very grumpy swordsman on most days that my wife visited his bedside. She tried to be subtle about it, but even for someone without any kind of medical degree it was obvious that Zoro needed help, even if he didn’t want it.

He looked like he barely slept. He was nervous. He was constantly going against Law’s orders to rest, getting up, even taking out his own IVs and working out I was told. For me it looked like he was on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Daz’s move. And Robin didn’t disagree, for me that was telling more than enough.

This wasn’t something he could simply recover from by willpower alone like he’d done it with all his past ailments. He needed help, professional help, but at the same time was unwilling to accept anything others offered him.

Zoro wanted to not fall into the definition of a victim under any circumstances and was digging himself into that exact hole with his stubborn refusals.

Robin tried to get him to talk about anything related to Daz, but the swordsman was adamantly silent about the topic. She tried to find out what exactly was making him feel this restless, but Zoro was firm in his demand that she could leave when she wanted to be a psychologist.

He was downright rude, which was according to his friends, not uncommon for him, at least not before this happened, because now he seemed to act very polite around everyone that wasn’t Law or Robin. He tried to look calm while his friends were present, hiding his deteriorating state of mind, acting as if he were recovering so none of them would feel guilty.

He obviously wanted his friends to be happy. He wanted to please them. Robin said he perhaps thought about being a burden to them, which did fit well enough with the person he was described to be, at least for me, who hadn’t actually yet met this man in person and only knew him through the descriptions of others.

Three weeks into his hospitalization Zoro was supposed to start with physical therapy, but he quickly did it and completely overworked himself, ripping half the stitches still holding his inner thigh together, but that wasn’t even the worst of it.

He didn’t tell anyone about it until he stained the floor with fresh blood with each step and a Law had to wrestle him out of his pants to have a look at the injury.

Honestly, he sounded like the worst patient ever and Robin was beginning to doubt herself because he just wouldn’t let her help. I had enough of it, so I decided it was finally time to meet this young man and have a word with him.

I asked Nami for a date and time, because she always knew who entered Zoro’s room first, so I didn’t announce myself to the swordsman before knocking on his door at all, on a day where he wasn’t expecting any visitors, once again on a strict bedrest after he reinjured himself like that.

It was a little after noon when I finally knocked. I didn’t wait for an answer and quickly entered.

Zoro was sitting up in bed, once again stripped of his right to wear his own clothing after the ripping his own stitches incident, instead covered by one of those flimsy hospital gowns, that never quite fit right.

The papery cloth was sitting awkwardly around his shoulders, one of them too bulky with his sling and showed his long legs, or what would’ve been his long legs, because one was curled towards his own chest, balancing a small notebook on it that was filled with scribbled Kanji from what I could tell, the other leg was stretched out and thickly wrapped in bandages from under the gown down to the knee. It looked more than a little uncomfortable.

His skin tone was of an awkward color, like a bleached out tan, somehow not quite white but not really healthy looking either. His hair had the always mentioned green coloring, I thought it looked cool, but many’d say I wasn’t a good judge when it came to tasteful style with my own electric blue mop of hair.

Unsurprisingly half of his face was hidden by even more bandages, faded bruises and scabbed over cuts littered his healthy arm and leg, his neck even.

His expression was guarded the second he realized that someone he didn’t know just entered his space. Even wounded like this and hooked on and IV line he looked dangerous, or maybe it was exactly because of that, that he looked so intimidating? Wounded and cornered animals and all that? It didn’t really matter though, I just closed the door behind me and settled myself in one of the chairs left close to his bedside.

I held out the small carton of onigiri Sanji made for his friend like a peace offering, because the injured swordsman looked like he was about to start growling any second now.

He looked startled, recognizing the carton as one of the food containers used by the Baratie, Sanji’s father’s restaurant, and tentatively snatched it out of my hand.

According to the blond cook onigiri were Zoro’s favorite, I guessed he recognized them as Sanji’s, because for just a second a small smile spread over the chapped lips of the swordsman, before he closed the box and his emotions off again, putting it on his bedside table with the care you’d give something made of glass, not a carton full of rice balls.

“Introduce yourself.” He demanded when looking back at me. It looked like he wasn’t quite sold on me yet, even though I obviously came with the knowledge and acceptance of his friends. Well, a little suspicion isn’t a bad thing after all.

“I’m Franky. Robin’s husband.” I explained with a bright grin, giving him a thumbs up. Once again the guarded expression slipped a little, a look of surprise shimmering through as he took me in.

I couldn’t suppress my laughter at that, because most of the time I didn’t get it either, how someone like me ended up with a beauty like Robin as his wife.

I was tall, much taller than Zoro even, and broad with thick, hairy arms, two big starts tattooed there. I preferred shorts, but in the middle of winter even I wore jeans, but combined it with a Hawaii shirt even I had to admit was a little tasteless, but whatever, it’s comfortable and bright, cheerful.

My face certainly wasn’t the most handsome, crooked, thick nose and what most people would dub an ass chin.

While the swordsman took his time mustering me from top to bottom I in turn had enough time to take in his room.  
He didn’t bring many personal belongings as far as I could tell. There were some clothes lying around that he obviously wasn’t allowed to wear right now, a book and his phone, as well as the notebook discarded next to him on his mattress now that I was here, taking his mind away from whatever, he’d been trying to write down with his one functional hand.

Next to the Baratie logoed carton of Sanji’s onigiri was a plate of some half eaten noodle dish. It looked fucking delicious considering that it was hospital food, but also cold, like Zoro didn’t have any desire to eat it from the moment it was set down in front of him. Not exactly healthy considering that Robin told me he had lost more than a few pounds over the course of the last year.

Next to the food was a small collection of cards, most of them looked like children’s drawings. Probably the kids from his Dojo. It effectively ruined the tough guy act, but in a weird way it was fitting I thought.

After a while he was done with his inspection, apparently having found whatever he’d been looking for and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said without introducing himself, correctly assuming that I knew much more about him than the other way around.

I shook it firmly, even though it was his left hand and it felt a little awkward, was this how left handed people always felt, shaking hands with their right one? Was Zoro even left handed? Sure, he’d just been writing with his left hand, but it was quite scribbly and Robin had mentioned before that Zoro was practically ambidextrous. Was that just his normal handwriting? Do ambidextrous people even have a more dominant hand??

Ohh god I was already losing my mind going down stupid tracks of thought like I always did!! But it didn’t look like Zoro minded, he just held on equally firm for a second, before letting go again, by now looking more curious than anything.

“So, why are you here?” He asked me, settling himself down more comfortably against his pillowed headboard.

“Oh Robin told me a lot about you, it doesn’t happen often that she actually likes a patient of hers, so I was curious for a long time about getting to meet you. Sadly you weren’t in the best position for making new friends with your ex and all.”

I tried to sound cheerful, casual even about the whole affair, knowing that a direct confrontation only got him more closed off by now. Zoro in turn obviously tried to hide his cringe, but wasn’t exactly successful and didn’t answer otherwise.

I continued on, ignoring his hesitation as if it was no big deal for now. “So for one, I just really wanted to get to know you now that you’re free of that asshole. On the other hand, I wanted to have a word with you. You’re being mean to my wife, you’re making her sad, we can’t have that, can we?”

I stated all this while grinning, but put the right amount of anger and threat in my voice to get my point across nonetheless. Zoro obviously heard it loud and clear, because while I was talking, he was getting smaller and smaller, his good eye narrowing. If he were a dog, he’d probably be showing off all of his sharp teeth, but he didn’t need to, he made it obvious enough for all that he was seconds away from ripping his IV again to jump me.

Good to know that there was still plenty of fight left in the guy, but there was also a feint trembling in his fingers.

Usopp had often described his sword wielding friend as fearless, but that couldn’t be true, especially not now. Now, the nurses often described him as restless, nervous even, and this right here fit in with what I imagined about his current mindscape pretty well.

He was willing to fight, but he was also scared. No wonder, I was probably pretty close to Daz in statue, closer than anyone else he interacted with since the man attacked him with a knife. Law may be tall, but he’s a fucking beanpole and Sanji is a little shorter than the injured swordsman himself.

“You know? She’s just trying to help you. Even if you hate it, you don’t have to be rude about it.” I finally sighed, letting the tension drain out of my shoulders, scratching the back of my head lazily, but Zoro didn’t relax, he was still staring at me with his sole grey eye expectantly.

Instead of provoking him into an actual attack, poor guy, taut like a bowstring, I changed the topic and pulled a small catalogue out of my back pocket.

“I’m also specialized in prosthetics. You’ll need to do something about that soon.” I explained, watching him take the bundle of paper out of my hand, tapping my left cheek, right beneath the eye.

Zoro looked a little lost, like he had no plan what I was even talking about or where this change in mood and topic came from.

He had every right to be confused, most people didn’t tag me as an emotional, forgiving or even funny guy when laying eyes on my bulging biceps, but in fact I was a lot more prone to tears than my wife ever was.

“What..” The green haired man stuttered out after a while of staring at me and then at the pamphlet that was describing different eye implants, obviously still lost somewhere in the change of conversation.

“The eye. Soon you’ll need to do something about the eye.” I stated simply, but the other’s visible brow only furrowed deeper. “What am I supposed to do? It’s gone.” He answered, keeping his exasperation in check as best as he could.

I sighed, shrugged my shoulder, internally scolding Law about not informing his patient about this sooner, but I also couldn’t hold it against him, that he didn’t want to talk about this with his hurt and quite snappy friend.

“That’s exactly the point. Soon the cut will be healed over, than it begins to scar. Your eyeball was removed, due to.. well…” I made an aborted gesture towards his eye, where my wife wouldn’t hesitate to say something like ‘leaking down your face after being slit open’ or something like that.

“There is now an empty space. If it isn’t filled out the surrounding muscles will try to adapt and the shape of your face will change, the scarring probably won’t help that. Also, an empty eye socket isn’t exactly great, it could dry, that’s pretty painful, or worse, get infected with something or other. So, we need to fill the socket with something that’s as close to a real eye as possible. I’m actually quite good at that.” I explained with as much detail as I could remember.

I ended up taking the papers back from him and pointed out a steel grey colored one, pretty close to his own color. “Nobody will even notice it’s not real.” I added with a thumbs up, but Zoro’s scowl only deepened.

“I lost it. It’s gone. I don’t need a new one.”

“You do actually. You can use a placeholder if you really don’t want a permanent implant, but it’s a lot of maintenance, also not optimal for sports like giving lessons in your Dojo.” I said more fiercely.

“I’m gonna have a scar all over my face, there’s no way ‘no one will notice’.” He growled back. “I’m not going to be able to see anyways, I don’t need a useless beauty item.”

Ahh there’s the problem. For some people it’s easier to just accept that a body part is gone when it’s actually gone and not replaced with something that is designed to look like a real body part. Some kids like robot looking arms a lot better for example.

“We can also implant a simple white eyeball and glue the lid shut. It’s a lot better for your health like that.” I concluded and that finally got the other man to let his shoulders drop a little.

“Would that be an option?” I interpreted his body language and after a moment of hesitation the swordsman carefully nodded. “You okay with me doing it? I promise, I’m the best you’ll find.” This time the nod came right away and I slapped his good thigh while laughing.

“Good, good, I’ll talk about the details with Law. You should eat something, looking a little pale around the nose.” That could’ve also just been because of the receding bruises there, but whatever, he could always use some extra calories, also Sanji’s food was delicious.

It looked like Zoro agreed at least with the last statement, because he pulled the carton back into his lap, unfazed by me touching him, and started nibbling on the rice balls, even offering me some.

“Ah no thanks, cook-bro would probably deep fry me alive if he knew I ate the stuff he intended for you.” I grinned, and fucking finally, Zoro grinned back at me. “Yeah, he would.” Liking his fingers after he was done with the first salty treat in the box.

“So now, do you like… want to talk about what happened? I get it if you don’t want to talk about it with your friends or your sis, or even Robin, even though she is damn good at talking about stuff like that, but we don’t know each other. I’m not in a position to judge you, there’s no picture to uphold or anything, and I’m not going to tell the police about shit either.”

“No.” He growled back, without looking up from the rice he was nibling, practically grain by grain to not have to look back up at me again.

“Well, shit, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but believe it or not, talking about it might actually help.” I teased, tapping his upper arm softly until he finally had to look up and slapped the offending hand away from himself.

“I said no, so piss off!” He hissed at me. “Nah, I don’t think so. I’m going to stay right the fuck here until you tell me something about why you were cowering the second you realized I wasn’t someone you know or agree to talk to someone else about this.” I countered firmly.

“I don’t need help. I’m fucking fine, why does nobody get the message.” He answered, louder this time. “But I think you do need some help with this, and so do the people that love you. And that’s fine. You do realize that it is perfectly normal for someone in your position to require some form of counseling? There’s nothing weak or unmanly about that.”

“I know, okay?! But I’m not… I don’t.. ah fuck.” He still growled, looking ready to get up and just leave at this point, pissed and frustrated. He talked himself into a real corner.

“So what if my fucking boyfriend beat the shit out of me, huh? I know that he lied, that he was talking shit and trying to… to manipulate me, I know that. He made me doubt anything and anyone, most of all, myself, and I’m an idiot for letting that happen, because I’m supposed to know better, right?! I’m not a coward, I’m not supposed to be cowering, I shouldn’t be waiting for him to bust through that goddamned door or come out of the shadows, because I know he’s in prison and not getting out until I sit my ass down for that trial!” He finally snapped and screamed.

Good, it looked like the dam was breaking, and even though it was in screaming rage, he was talking. He wasn’t the first patient that ended up screaming at my face either, I was a pretty nosey guy after all.

“But… But I am scared. I am cowering. I’m a fucking idiot, I feel like shit about what I said to my friends. I don’t even know how Mihawk can look at me without feeling ashamed.”

“He’s your dad, right? He loves you, that’s all you need to know.” I answered, while Zoro was slowly calming, although his one good eye was looking a little watery.  
“He’s not my real dad, he adopted me when I was thirteen or something. My real dad… Well, he forgot about me you could say. Offed himself.”

“Oh, so he can’t love you just because you’re not really his child? That’s a cruel assumption. My own parents kicked me out when I was still a kid, and I certainly know that my foster father loved me more than anything else, and I think you know too that yours loves you.” Was my answer, eyebrows raised high, and it had the green haired man flinching, because it looked like he knew too that Mihawk loved him, blood relation be damned.

“He raised me to be proud, fearless, strong, and I am not. I am not honorable, I betrayed him.”

“Mihawk was a bundle of nerves over the course of the months I got to know him. The months where it was clear that Daz was hurting you. It’s good to have ideals like that, Zoro, but it’s not quite possible to always be strong like that. Fear is a healthy thing, at least in moderation.”

“Trust your friends and family to have your back whenever you can’t be as strong as you wish to be. Mental health is important, there’s nothing weak about maintaining that. The opposite is true, mental health is a lot of hard work, it requires a lot of bravery to talk about something as traumatizing as an abusive relationship.”

A few tears slipped down the swordsman’s cheek, the only sign that he was actually processing what was being said, other than that he stayed still and silent.

“I’ve worked with a lot of vets, you know. You can tell me about whatever you feel comfortable talking about, but I’m no professional. Robin is, maybe it would be better if you talked some stuff through with her as well?” I suggested carefully.

“Nah.. She’s a good person, I don’t want to tell her about… that.” He stuttered out. At least not yet, I added for my own peace of mind, I was sure he’d soon enough realize, that Robin could handle whatever he had to say.

“That’s fine. Is there a reason why you don’t want to talk to the police though? They’ll need your statement and you’ll be able to leave as soon as the implant is done with, that’s the moment they’ll force you to talk.”

Zoro’s trembling was getting worse. Soon it wasn’t just his fingers anymore, but his whole body, his working hand desperately clawing at anything in reach. The paper gown, the sheets and even his bandages. That was the moment I carefully reached for his wrist and pulled it back a little, scared that he’d end up hurting himself in the process.

He looked pretty close to a full blown panic attack, his face wet with more silent tears and his breathing stuttering painfully.

Maybe I was putting too much pressure on him, maybe I shouldn’t have forced him to talk after all… I should probably call a nurse over…

But then Zoro’s hand suddenly wound itself out of my grip and covered his own mouth with it. Within seconds he calmed visibly, holding his breath and then breathing in a deliberate rhythm. Maybe it was some form of meditation or something, but the swordsman was pretty good at calming himself, even though the slight tremble in his hands remained.

“I haven’t really told anyone. Don’t know if I should.” He finally uttered as his face was already beginning to dry.

I felt a kind of morbid curiosity at that. He was probably talking about the reason for Daz’s escalation. At one point everyone involved had wondered what tipped the tide so much that the boxer went after his boyfriend with a knife.

“Do you think not telling anyone will help you or make you feel better? Because if you think so, you don’t have to force yourself. The only thing you shouldn’t do is lie to the police, but you probably know that already, hence you not giving a statement until now.”

For a long time Zoro said nothing and I was glad, because it meant he was actually contemplating my words, not just dismissing them.

“Not really, no.” He settled on answering. “I’m feeling like I’m keeping his dirty secrets for him, but I don’t want people to know how weak I am either.”

“It’s not a good feeling, the feeling of hiding things from others, isn’t it?” I sighed in understanding and waited for his eye to meet my gaze before continuing. “Then I think you should tell someone about whatever makes you feel like that. Nobody is going to think you’re weak and I think you already know that.”

Again, it was silent for a long long while, but I was patient, I knew who I was dealing with before coming here and had planned this talk to last a while, I wasn’t surprised by his frequent bouts of silence at all.

“Is Robin free tomorrow?” The young man on the hospital bed asked tentatively. “No…Nothing against you, but… I just think she’ll understand. Anyways, thanks for the talk.” He was a little awkward while trying to explain his predicament. I just clapped his good shoulder and grinned broadly.

“Sure man, she’ll be here, promise. Now try to sleep some, you look like you need it bro.” I told him enthusiastically and quickly left after that to let the man rest. He was probably exhausted after all the stress I put him through, but in the end it looked like it actually helped.

Robin was so glad when I told her everything and finally had her first real therapy session with Zoro the next day. Obviously she didn’t tell me about the things they talked through, but she did say that it was natural reaction of his to speak of this to a woman, rather than a man. I didn’t know what to do with that information until I finally heard the full story on the day of the trial months later.


End file.
